


The Hero Who Travelled to Faerie in Search of a Bride

by mongoose_bite



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blow Jobs, Fae & Fairies, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, M/M, Slow Burn, fey!otabek, knight!yuri, so i gave otabek a tiger, there are no motorbikes, virgin otabek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-19 14:26:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9445403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mongoose_bite/pseuds/mongoose_bite
Summary: The king is dead and in accordance with the custom all worthy aspirants to the crown must set out in search of a bride deserving of the throne. For one soldier, distinguished in battle, it was not enough to seek a princess among the neighbouring kingdoms, because for many years his heart had pulled him towards the distant spires and violet hills of Faerie, a land forbidden to mortals, for so few return...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [synstruck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/synstruck/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Syn! I hope you have a lovely day; thank you for being your awesome self, and I hope this next year brings you many wonderful things.
> 
> Syn prompted me to write magic and/or fey, smut optional. So the rating may or may not go up later.

Deep under the veil of night the bells started tolling in the cathedral spire, sending the sleeping pigeons wheeling out confusedly over the jumbled roofs of the city and rousing the citizenry from their beds. Candles were lit, slippers and overcoats fumbled for, and people flung open their doors and windows and leaned out into the night and called for news.

Yuri was a heavy sleeper, and it was only when he heard his grandfather knocking on his door and calling his name did he finally tear himself from the embrace of Morpheus. The bells had flooded his dreams, and he had been dancing to them among ivory spires under dazzling azure skies. He blinked awake, dream visions lingering for a moment. When he realised he hadn't been dreaming of the bells he tore the blankets off and leaped out of bed.

He gathered his mass of gleaming blonde hair, tying it swiftly in a messy bun, and grabbed his lance before yanking the door open.

“Are we under attack?” he asked, as Nikolai, an old housecoat thrown over his pyjamas, held up a gnarled hand to calm him.

“Nothing like that, Yuri,” he said. “The king is dead.”

“Oh.” His shoulders dropped and he leaned his lance against the wall again. “Long live the King,” he said.

“Long live the king,” his grandfather echoed. “I suppose they will summon the worthy after the funeral.” He eyed Yuri knowingly.

Yuri lifted his head. “I'd better answer then. I'll make you proud, I promise.”

“Ahh, you already have, Yuri. You've helped save our little kingdom; you're a hero. You don't need need to be king as well if you don't truly desire it.”

Yuri smiled to himself. “Well, what else is there for me to desire?” Many things, many, many things, locked away carefully in his heart, but he knew better than to speak of them.

“Hmm.” Nikolai heaved a sigh, “Well, you don't have to decide right away.”

Yuri knew his grandfather wasn't fooled, and that he was nevertheless hoping he'd change his mind, but the mourning period passed without any second thoughts, and the day after funeral bunting was taken down from the shop fronts, Yuri was up at dawn without his grandfather having to wake him, his heart fluttering in anticipation.

The Plisetsky's were blacksmiths, and after Yuri's parents had died his grandfather ran the forge alone. Never once had he tried to dissuade Yuri from becoming a warrior, even though he'd refused to let Yuri go to war before he was of age. Yuri had been obliged to sneak away instead, joining the army as a fearsome and overconfident fifteen-year-old, who'd come back home both fiercer and somewhat subdued by his experiences.

Becoming a hero hadn't quenched his ambition. He wanted more for himself, more from life, and he kept his skills honed to a razor's edge as he'd grown into a young man. There had to be another challenge out there.

They'd bought their old king a few years of peaceful retirement at least, and his death had caught no one by surprise. Thus, the city was full of hopefuls seeking the throne, although the palace bureaucrats declared most of them ineligible.

Yuri qualified. It was not bloodlines that decided who would rule here, and a blacksmith's son might become king, if he had first distinguished himself and then brought back a suitable bride.

The latter was the sticking point. Yuri was very much admired, his beauty openly talked about in market squares and wistful girls' bedrooms, but all from a safe distance. He didn't like most people, and had never bothered to be polite about it. Most people were boring and stupid; only those he'd gone to war with did he really feel he could talk to. And his grandfather. And cats, of course.

None of which were helpful in the search for a bride. But he had a plan, and he suspected his grandfather knew what it was, which explained why he'd been so grumpy and discouraging about the whole thing, going as far as he could without outright forbidding Yuri from going.

Yuri dressed in his finest clothes, velvet and silk gifted to him for his services to the crown, his golden hair flowing long and loose down his back, and left for the palace.

People had gathered along the sides of the streets, excited and curious to see the contenders, glad to have something to celebrate again after mourning their king. Despite grey skies the crowds dressed gaily and waved handkerchiefs and flung flowers to the hopefuls. Among the competition were many familiar faces. Yuri had fought alongside most of them at one point or another.

Lord Leroy was the current favourite. It was well known that he'd been courting Princess Isabella for some time now, and she would be a more than suitable bride. He was astride his horse, waving at the crowd like he was already monarch, his cloak rippling behind him. Yuri had served under him in battle, and he did _not_ want to be ruled over by him for the rest of his life. He was the one to beat, or rather Princess Isabella was.

Others were there too. Mila, resplendent in her armour; making a point that she was not to be confined to dresses and had qualified on her own merits in battle, although Yuri wondered rather uncharitably what sort of person would want to marry her. He'd never admit it to anyone but she was kind of scary; she could pick him up and throw him without much effort. She'd probably make a good king, if he was honest.

Georgi, overdressed in a confection of purple and black, declaring he was going to win back the love of his life and present her to the palace as his chosen bride. No competition there, Yuri thought smugly; he didn't stand a chance.

Christophe was in his element, accepting roses from the crowd and dispensing kisses to people's hands with great shrieks of delight wherever he went. He hadn't chosen a bride yet; they'd have to work to impress him instead, but whoever the lucky girl was, they were _very_ lucky indeed, he was quite sure.

Gross, Yuri thought.

There were others too, although Yuri had ceased paying a lot of attention. Girls in the crowd kept calling his name, waving to him and trying to look queenly, he supposed. Ugh, like he'd pick someone randomly. Maybe they were hoping he'd fall in love with them or something stupid like that.

The gathering was a formality, a declaration of intent to compete and nothing more. It took place within the courtyard in front of the palace, as the important officials and high ranking nobles looked on. Yuri held his head high and kept his own counsel.

The nobles would approve of Lord Leroy; he was one of them, after all, and suitable in every respect. He'd have a lot of help, if he asked for it. The crowds cheered through the gates of the palace, and banners fluttered in the breeze as they were formally blessed and set out on their quest.

“What about Plisetsky?” he heard one noble mutter to another as he strode by.

“He's too young really, although he's pretty enough to be a bride; shame you can't marry yourself.”

Yuri's eyebrow twitched but he didn't break stride. He couldn't afford to waste time on idiots anyway.

He had a long way to go.

When he got home, his grandfather was waiting for him, lunch on the table, and a look in his eyes that prophesied a lecture in the near future.

“I'm going,” Yuri said, in an attempt to forestall him.

“Where are you going?” Nikolai asked. “Tell me.”

Yuri sighed. If he didn't already know, he wouldn't be demanding he tell him. “Faerie,” he said, folding his arms and lifting his jaw.

“You can't, Yuri. You won't come back. Mortals _don't_ come back.” He scowled at the table, gazing at the simple food he'd laid out.

“Lord Leroy is going to marry Princess Isabella,” Yuri said. “No mortal bride could be more worthy than her, so I must look beyond mortal lands.” He said it simply, like it was a logical decision.

“And you intend to bring back a Fey princess?” Nikolai asked. “I'm not so easily fooled, Yuri. Have you given any thought as to how you might actually obtain a bride once you got there?” Yuri didn't say anything. “Of course not. You're so enamoured of Faerie, this is just an excuse, a reason to go where your heart takes you.”

Yuri could have argued further, but he didn't want to  fight with his grandfather. “What's wrong with that?” he asked softly. “My heart took me to war and brought me home again. I  _will_ come home, Grandfather. I'll miss you, even among the gleaming  palaces and golden plains of Faerie, I won't forget.” He reached out and placed his hand on Nikolai's old one.

He shook his grizzled head. “Ah, eat, Yuri. It wouldn't be right to start a journey with bitter words.”

When they were done, Nikolai waved away Yuri's offer to help clean up. “There is something for you,” he said. “Upstairs. Maybe it will keep you safe.”

Curious, Yuri hurried upstairs, and paused in the doorway, his breath catching when he saw what his grandfather had laid out on his bed.

It was mithril chain; he could tell by the way it shone, glimmering even in the low light of the room. He paused for a moment to take it in, and then hurriedly started taking off his fine clothes. The chain-mail slid over his undershirt like water, clinging to his shoulders and torso like fish skin, swinging loose around his thighs so he could move. Only the Fey themselves could make a finer piece of armour, and he realised Nikolai had to have been working on it for a long time.

Yuri stared at himself in the mirror, running his fingers across the metal links stretched over his chest.

“What do you think?” Nikolai asked, climbing the stairs and pausing in the doorway.

“It's beautiful, Grandfather,” Yuri said. “Your finest work.”

“Mm. I couldn't send you out with anything less, could I?” He sniffed. “Let me braid your hair, Yuri.”

Yuri sat on his bed and let his grandfather braid his hair, the strands sliding through the blacksmith's hands like silk.

Pretty. He'd give them pretty.

“Don't tie it,” he said when Nikolai was done, instead standing and taking his dagger from his sheath. He met his own eyes in the hazy reflection of the polished steel of the mirror, as he reached back, grasping the braid with one hand.

He sawed through his hair, the strands parting with a crisp, satisfying sound. When he was done the ragged ends fell around his face and shoulders, and he felt lighter instantly, freer. He gathered the hair he'd cut off carefully, and handed the severed braid to his grandfather.

“Sell it if you like,” he said. A wig maker would pay good money for it. “Or keep it.”

Nikolai nodded, coiling it up carefully.

“I've packed you some food. But Yuri-”

“I'll manage, somehow.” Don't eat the food in Faerie. He wasn't going into this blind.

“I hope so. I'll let you get ready.”

Trousers, gauntlets, boots, pauldrons, Yuri never let himself get unfamiliar and unused to the feel of wearing armour, all his grandfather's work in beaten polished steel, save for the beautiful new chain-mail.

He sharpened all his blades, the daggers and the lance, and paced his old room, running his hand along the windowsill he'd spent so many hours sitting at and dreaming.

The time for dreaming was over, and the time to actually live was beginning. The clouds had parted and the sun was setting, casting rays of fiery orange like spears down the streets of the city and painting the clouds colours of soft, blushing pink.

His grandfather was waiting downstairs with a bag packed for him. His cat had returned for his evening meal and Yuri scooped Maximilian up and hugged him close, letting his cheek rest against his soft fur for a moment before letting him get back to his dinner before he unsheathed his claws in protest.

The sun had nearly set. Time to go. Time to leave this homely house and forge for the wild and strange lands of Faerie.

“I suppose you know the way,” Nikolai said softly.

Yuri nodded. There was no doubt in his mind; had he not gazed towards those violet hills every chance he got?

Yuri hugged his grandfather, and slung his pack on his back, his lance over his shoulder. He stepped out onto the street, and squinted against the sunset for a moment before resolutely turning his back on it. As twilight approached, Faerie surged so much closer, like an incoming tide. In the gathering gloom he could see those hazy, distant hills, far beyond the city, and on evenings stiller than this one he had climbed to the highest point of the city to hear faint strains of Fey music.

Now he was finally going where his heart longed to be, and he waved but didn't look back as he set out under the first stars of evening.

 


	2. Chapter 2

A mortal travels to Faerie simply by seeking it and following the twilight, and even as Yuri made his way out of the city, he could see the stars shining brighter than they usually did, and the wind stirring the wheat in the fields as he walked was laden with wild scent. He had a while to go yet, but he was on the right path.

He slept eventually, dozing beneath his cloak and waking with the sun, eating the food his grandfather packed. He caught a dandelion seed as it floated by, held it close, and turned his face to the wind and started walking as the sun shone ever more golden on the fields and farmhouses around him. He didn't stick to paths or roads, instead following the wind, and when twilight fell those distant hills grew bigger, and he could see the glittering spires of Fey castles and fortresses nestled among them.

On the first day he bought food from a farmhouse, they recognised him as a hero and wouldn't take his coin. Now they barely spoke to him, concluded business quickly and would not look him in the eye or enquire as to where he was going. They already knew, and they knew it wasn't wise to gaze after mortals who sought the lands of Faerie, lest their hearts be stolen too.

Yuri could not say when exactly he crossed into Faerie. It could have been at night, as he walked beneath the glittering arcs of meteors, star-metal dropping from the aether, fireflies dancing among the pale, star-litten flowers. It could have been as he leaped across a sweetly babbling steam, a hazy sun making the morning fog glow. It could have stolen across him as he slept sprawled in the shade of an aged oak, birds twittering as the wind sighed through the leaves above him. Perhaps he dreamed himself the last of the way there.

All he knew was he found himself scrambling up a grassy hill one long, languid afternoon, the sweet smell of flowers and fresh grass making him feel slightly light-headed with joy, and realised what he had first thought to be distant thunder was in fact drums. He gazed up to see a cloud-ship rowing steadily through the sky above him, pennants flying, white sails billowing, hull the colours of sunset. No mortal skies had been crossed by such a vessel since the days of myth, when Faerie was not as forbidden to mortals, although many did not return. His heart pounded as he looked about him with eyes blurring with unbidden and unexpected tears. The violet hills rose hazy but distinct in the clear sunlight, and he could see no farmhouses, only tall, dark forests and miles of rolling green hills dotted with flowers.

Faerie was all about him, and he drank in its fragrant air, found himself following the cloud-ship as it sailed across the sky until it disappeared among the actual clouds towering strange over the distant horizon. It was all he could do to keep himself from dancing. Everything glowed here, the sunlight rich and heavy, the air laden with flower petals and fluffy seeds. The wind sang through the grass, and whipped his hair about his face playfully, tugging him onwards.

Birds of unfamiliar plumage arrowed across the sky, their calls achingly familiar, like sounds heard on the edge of sleep, to be grasped at in vain.

As he entered a forest the trees seemed to whisper around him, rub their leaves together curiously, crowding in close. Maybe it wasn't just the trees whispering. A mortal in Faerie; how long had it been since one had willingly walked this way?

What did time matter here?

Yuri walked on, deeper into the forest, across rounded stones so thick with moss they were almost soft under his boots, over little streams in which brightly coloured fish flickered, under gnarled roots the size of houses, around trees the size of a cathedral, so tall his imagination failed him and he couldn't believe in their crowns.

He saw precious stones and gold coins glimmering in the bottom of shallow pools, and let them be. He heard familiar voices calling him as if from far away, and he ignored them. He saw trees laden with deep red apples, he brushed past vines drooping under the weight of purple grapes the size of duck eggs, he stepped over strawberry bushes bearing strawberries as bright and shiny as rubies, and was not tempted.

Eventually twilight came again to Faerie, and Yuri searched for somewhere to rest. He'd seen nothing to threaten him so far, but he didn't like the idea of sleeping on the forest floor. He dug the tip of his lance into the mossy bark for leverage and he vaulted up over one of the gnarled roots, scrambling lithely into the sheltering branches of one of the gigantic trees. The branches were broad enough to host a banquet on, but he found a little crevice closer to the trunk and made himself at home there. Around him the fireflies started to dance, and luminous fungi glowed softly as he listened to the music floating on the still air, and the ceaseless whispering about him. He didn't have to strain his ears to snatch notes out of the air, they rippled about him, distant voices raised in song, unworldly airs the words of which he couldn't catch.

He unpacked bread and cheese and an apple, dull and small and unfragrant, and ate them slowly, before curling himself up in his cloak. It wasn't cold, but the dark material would hide his glimmering chain-mail and shiny armour.

It was all he could do to protect himself for now, and he was lulled by the night music of Faerie into a deep sleep. He had no need to dream here; the dream was all about him.

He awoke in the morning to silence. The trees had ceased whispering, and beams of sunlight cast spotlights on the forest floor below, illuminating a cluster of flowers, or lizard sunning itself on a dew-speckled rock.

Yuri uncurled himself slowly, stretching his limbs, feeling like he'd slept at the bottom of the sea his slumber had been so deep. He ran his fingers through his hair, and edged out from under his cloak. It hadn't been a cold night, nor too warm. He stood on one of the branches and stretched upwards, gazing at the jade canopy far above him and sighing happily.

He moved to open his pack, his boot scraping on the bark, and then he froze, his warrior's instinct telling him he'd just attracted someone's attention.

_Something_.

What he'd taken to be the sun-speckled forest floor he now realised was a mottled green and brown hide, and he saw limbs like tree branches, a long, sinuous neck like the mossy roots he'd ducked under by the dozen the day before, and a great golden eye, looking right at him.

Time to back away slowly. He couldn't see how big the beast was, its coils lost in the tangle of trees; it could have been endless. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of a creature that mortals only remembered in myth, only saw in the dusty pages of old books. He'd read those books, and he reached for his lance.

The beast moved, and Yuri flung himself backwards off the branch as its great jaws clapped together in the space where he'd just been. He twisted in mid-air, landing on his feet, his lance held before him as the wyrm slithered forward, the trees creaking and groaning as it eased its body after him, its horrible, knowing gaze focused on him.

He danced away as it lunged after him, and he skidded on the soft earth before leaping at the creature, razored edge of his lance first. He struck back, and it hissed as his blade grated on its scaled hide, leaving a deep scratch, but not drawing its ancient blood. It twisted its head to look at him, pupils dilating as it considered before whipping its head around again, and Yuri used his lance to vault out of the way as its its teeth closed behind his heels.

The branch he'd slept on on finally snapped under the weight of the creature, and several tons of wood and monster crashed to the forest floor with a thump that Yuri could feel through his feet, and a sound that washed through the forest, made louder by the utter silence of everything else.

The creature gathered itself up, now it was freer to move, coils sliding over itself and Yuri turned and ran.

He ducked under roots and scrambled over rocks as the wyrm followed, its scales rustling as it moved, its breath like great bellows at his back, hot and smelling of old, rotting wood. It dug its claws into the trees and launched itself after him, and he reacted instinctively, twisting and leaping, his breath burning in his throat.

He ran, his eyes open to opportunities to ambush it, and he sprang up onto a rock, grasping a vine covered in white flowers the size of dinner plates to swing himself up higher, and flung himself down at the beast's head as it slavered after him. He landed right between its eyes, driving his lance down as hard as he could into its nose and it shrieked, mouth gaping as Yuri struggled to stay on it. It flung its head back and the young knight went flying, crashing through leaves and branches, and crushing a mushroom the size of a dinner table as he landed.

Winded, he used his lance to lever himself to his feet as he heard the beast thrash towards him in his wake. Its eyes blazed in the gloom of the forest, and blood dripped from its nostrils and over its front teeth, red and shiny.

He'd made it mad at least, but it seemed able to smell him out easily, and he took off again as it wound its way through the forest after him. He lost sight of it briefly, it was no longer on his heels, and he whirled around lance raised just in time to see it lunge from the side. He parried it, falling back, the lance jarring his arm as it took the brunt of the beast's bite.

Yuri was panting now, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat and his armour covered in muck, but he couldn't rest, not even for a moment. Maybe if he could find away to climb out of reach before it finally got lucky and swallowed him whole.

It was terrifying, but his heart was singing to find himself in mortal peril again, and truly he couldn't ask for a more glorious challenge.

His legs burned as he ran on, and he realised the light was getting stronger only moments before he ran out into a clearing on top of a small rise. A single shard of crystal stone stood in the centre of it. Yuri blinked in the sudden sunlight and scrambled up the slope. Maybe he hoped the wyrm would not like the light, but there was no such luck. It slowed down, perhaps realising Yuri had nowhere left to go as it slid out of the forest. The sunlight glinted off the odd new scale, giving the impression that it had been sprinkled with gemstones, and its great head swayed higher, a long, forked tongue sliding out from between its bloody teeth. It was beautiful, graceful despite its size.

Yuri hefted his lance, and didn't wait for it to gather itself to strike. He slid down the slope, blade flashing, determined to sell his life dearly if nothing else. He skidded under the beast's head, as it curved its neck down to bite at him, and thrust his lance into the soft underbelly, beneath one of those trunk-like legs.

Another shriek and the beast lifted its great clawed foot, and Yuri yanked his lance free of its hide as it swiped at him, knocking him off his feet again, and he ploughed a trough through the grass with his back until he skidded to a halt, clouds of dandelion seeds dislodged by his wake floating above him.

The wyrm's head blocked out the sun as it loomed over him, Yuri struggling to rise.

Yuri heard a snarl, something low and rumbling, and the wyrm suddenly recoiled, looking away from him and hissing.

Yuri blinked in surprise as he saw a tiger the size of a horse clinging to the beast's foot and growling. The beast was wearing a saddle and bridle, and its rider, and an armoured figure with a sword, ran up the hill towards him.

Yuri looked briefly into fathomless black eyes before he realised a gauntleted hand was being extended to him.

“Are you coming or not?” The voice was deep, and quite calm, given the circumstances.

Yuri accepted the hand, gripping his lance with the other as he was hauled to his feet. The stranger whistled and the tiger abandoned the wyrm, which was trying to snap at it, and ran up to to them.

He vaulted onto its back and Yuri ignored the offered hand and followed, clinging on to the stranger's armour as he twisted around to watch the wyrm.

“Fine day for a hunt,” the stranger said. “But a deep wyrm might be too much for us.” He was perfectly understandable, but something about the way he formed his words struck Yuri as archaic. He didn't have time to think about it. Perhaps sensing that its prey was getting away the wyrm struck out again, and the tiger leaped out of the way.

Yuri clung on to the stranger with one hand and with the other he held his lance. The tiger bounded down the hill and plunged right back into the forest again, the wyrm crashing down after them.

Its paws thudded into the soft earth, it leaped over roots and clawed its way up the side of steep slopes. Yuri kept his head down as leaves brushed over their heads.

They started to outpace the wyrm and the sounds of its movement grew fainter behind them as the forest was reduced to a green, jolting blur.

Yuri looked at the back of his companion's head, the long dark hair tied up in a bun above the shaven sides of his head, and he stared at his ears, long and pointed, a blue stone embedded in one earlobe.

Fey. There was no doubt about it, and his heart thumped.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

The tiger carried them through the forest, leaping across canyons of deep obsidian rock strung with vines, Yuri's stomach twisting as he looked down, past a roaring waterfall that arched a rainbow over them as they dashed through the spray, through clouds of butterflies the size of bats whirling in a sunlit gap in the canopy. As soon as a wonder was revealed it was lost again, and Yuri twisted around trying to soak in everything at once, the Fey's armour warm under his fingers.

With the wyrm far behind them the forest started to come alive again, and the trees whispered and rustled as they darted past. Yuri couldn't tell how much time had passed when he noticed the forest had started to thin and moments later they shot out into the sunlight again. Before them stretched a new and unfamiliar landscape. The violet hills rose impossibly tall and clear, their tops lost in the clouds, and among the foothills wound vast rivers feeding into azure lakes, the nearest of which was spanned by a silvery bridge so finely wrought it seemed like it would fall in the slightest breeze. On the other side of the lake was a city, elegant pagodas and ivory spires nestled between two hills carved into terraces.

The tiger slowed to a walk, giving Yuri a chance to gaze about, and eventually it came to a halt near the lake. Yuri wasn't taking any chances; as soon as it had stopped he slid off the beast's back and backed away, holding his lance warily.

Careful now.

The Fey dismounted also,  giving the tiger an affectionate pat as it approached the lake to crouch down and drink.

Yuri straightened his back and braced himself to meet his rescuer. Yuri thought his armour might have been bronze at first, but it was a richer, redder colour, and the intricate designs on it were picked out in brightest gold, sunbeams and tree branches. No mortal armour could boast such craftsmanship  and he wore it like it weighed nothing. Maybe it did. The Fey made their arms and armour from fallen stars, or so it was said, and who knew what properties the aether had bestowed upon them .  The Fey had a sword at his hip, but he made no move to draw it,  tilting his head slightly  as he regarded Yuri with calm curiosity.

He almost looked human; his features were all in the right place, and taken individually looked normal enough, save for his ears, but he blinked just slightly too seldom, and his eyes were a deep shade of black that was all too easy to get lost in. Yuri had sort of expected Fey to be tall and thin, but he was actually an inch or so shorter than Yuri himself, and broad-shouldered under his armour, but there was something about his bone structure that seemed oddly delicate.

Still, the legends hadn't lied about the beauty of the Fey, and Yuri drank him in with eyes he knew were wide with wonder.

When Yuri managed to look away he realised t he tiger was looking at him too, and it yawned widely, tail swishing,  before finding a spot on the grass to flop down and rest .

“You're a mortal,” the Fey said, and perhaps there was wonder in his tone too. “I was looking for what had brought the wyrm out of hiding. They're curious creatures, and they always wake hungry. And you wounded it, no less.”

Yuri did not thank him for his help. To give thanks was to imply obligation, however grateful he was.

“I am Yuri,” he said instead, no harm in giving part of his name.

“Your armour is very fine for mortal work. Are you royalty?” the Fey asked.

Yuri was surprised and pleased with the compliment. He knew his Grandfather would be incredibly proud to know his work had been honoured by a Fey, and he made a mental note to tell him when he returned . “My grandfather made it. I am,” he paused. “A soldier. That's all.”

The Fey bowed slightly. “I am Otabek, a Prince of the Summer Court.”

“Your Highness, it's an honour,” Yuri said, bowing in turn. Politeness cost nothing here, in a place where much had a high price. “Is that it there?” Yuri asked, pointing at the city across the water.

Otabek looked surprised, and then he  smiled, amused . “No, that is Forsake. It's just a village. The Summer Court is much grander than that.”

“I apologise.”

Otabek waved a hand. “I wouldn't expect a mortal to know.”

At least he wasn't one of those Fey quick to take offence. Yuri was rather relieved. He looked at Otabek's armour; despite its beauty it had clearly seen a bit of battle, the scratches buffed out but deeper nicks remained.

“Are you at war?” he asked.

He shrugged. “Hm. Somewhat, as you mortals recognise it. The Courts always seek a new balance in their favour, so Faerie cannot ever be said to be at peace. You're not likely to be caught up in a battle, if that's what you're wondering.”

“Good.”

He smiled faintly. “We're more likely to call off a battle to regard what has become so rare here; a mortal in our midst.”

“I see.” Yuri wasn't sure how he felt about that. Being famous among humans was bad enough; he had the feeling the attention of the Fey would not be so benign.

“So, I must know. Why are you here, Yuri?” Otabek asked.

Yuri had been thinking about Faerie for so long and had been so caught up in it once he'd arrived, that he'd almost forgotten why he was meant to be here in the first place, and he remembered it with a certain measure of dread. He didn't really _want_ to have to propose to Fey princesses and now he'd actually met a Fey in the flesh and had seen how inhumanly perfect he looked, well, he couldn't imagine any Fey accepting a proposal for a mortal, even one as young and pretty as he'd been assured he was.

Yuri sighed. Otabek had asked, and there was no point in lying to him.

“Our throne is empty, and as according to the custom in our land, those who seek to claim it must first obtain a suitable bride. I came here because I intend to win the contest,” Yuri set his jaw.

Something flashed in Otabek's dark eyes, but only for a moment and then he smiled, a grin that made him look far more human.

“Well, this might be the first time a mortal has come to Faerie to kidnap a Fey rather than the other way around.”

“I'm not going to kidnap anyone! I'm going to ask.”

“Oh, mortals have really changed then.” He looked thoughtful. “Well, I can't say you're wrong to think a Fey bride would make the fairest queen in the mortal world, but I can't really let you stroll into Court and proposition my sisters either.”

“Well, I don't mean necessarily to go to the Summer Court-”

“My sisters are the fairest and most radiant creatures in Faerie. Their strength and wisdom are unmatched. Are you telling me you'd prefer an ice queen? Or a flighty daughter of spring, who'd likely as not forget why she left Faerie in the first place and abandon you?”

Yuri folded his arms. “There's no right way to answer these questions, is there?” He was convinced Otabek wasn't actually offended as he spoke lightly after all, and his hands made no move towards his weapons. Fey didn't, as far as Yuri knew, go in for randomly attacking people.

He might well be in danger here, but it was of a more subtle kind.

Otabek acknowledged his point. “Well, you're more interesting than I expected of a mortal.”

“I try.”

“There's a simple solution to all of this. If you complete three tasks I set you, three tests of character and strength, then I will guide you safely to the Summer Court, where you may speak as freely as you like to my sisters.”

“And if I don't win three contests?” Yuri asked.

“You know what will happen,” Otabek said. “But I'll make it clear. Then you belong to me. Forever.”

Yuri took a step back, warily. “That's not fair. I must win three times, but you only once.”

“Yet those are the rules. Did you really travel to Faerie and expect anything different? You don't have to accept, of course. You could try your luck elsewhere.”

Yuri had told himself he was braced for this sort of thing, but to think about it is one thing, and to be faced with the very real threat of eternal indenture to a Fey was something else.

“Are you going to tell me what the contests are?”

He wasn't surprised when Otabek said no. “I haven't even decided what they're going to be yet,” he said. “This sort of thing happens quite often between Fey, but it's so rare to-”

“Yeah, yeah, mortals are rare. I get it. They're only rare because Fey make Faerie too dangerous for us.”

“Faerie _is_ dangerous. For Fey as well, but our nature reflects that of Faerie.” He shrugged. “It is what it is. Do you not like it?”

“I love it,” Yuri said, without thinking. Then he paused to think, and looked over his shoulder at the forest they'd just crossed. To go back would be hard, but perhaps not impossible. To reject Otabek's offer and go forward would simply delay having to accept another Fey's conditions. At least Otabek had proven himself the sort to rescue someone in peril. It was as slender thing to pin his hopes on, but he'd lived for years on finer hopes than that.

“I accept,” he said clearly.

Otabek raised his eyebrows in surprise, but he looked rather pleased. He unclasped his right gauntlet, and withdrew his hand from it before extending it towards Yuri. Yuri hurried to do the same, his heart thumping at his own daring. Grandfather would not approve, but he could win this, he _would_ win this.

Otabek's hand was warm, his fingers less calloused than Yuri's own, and his grip had real strength behind it, although he kept it in check.

“First contest?” Yuri asked.

“Mm. I don't think you're ready. You've spent the morning fighting a deep wyrm; it would be unfair if you didn't get a chance to rest, and uh, clean up?”

Yuri looked down at himself, and realised that his armour was streaked with mud and bits of grass, and mushroom-pulp was stuck in the mithril chain. There was mud in his hair too.

“Ugh.” Fuck, how embarrassing. So much for making a good impression. “Shit! My pack!” The last time he'd seen it, it had been in the hollow of the tree he'd slept in, and presumably had been entirely crushed by the wyrm when it had snapped the branch.

“Have you lost something?” Otabek asked.

“Yes, everything but what I'm standing in.” He shook his head, “Nevermind, I'll worry about it later. I'm just going to, yeah, clean up.”

At least his Grandfather had impressed upon him the importance of carrying a clean handkerchief, although it wasn't going to remain very clean much longer.

“Please, take your time. I'm in no rush,” Otabek said, and Yuri couldn't tell if he was being made fun of or not. “I'll just be over here with Vigilance,” he said, indicating the tiger.

“She's very beautiful,” Yuri said.

“Yes, she is. Did you hear that?” he asked the tiger, who blinked slowly at him. “She already knows,” Otabek said.

“Yeah, cats are like that,” Yuri said, smiling as he watched Otabek sit down in the grass, his back resting against Vigilance's side.

“Do you have a tiger as well?” Otabek asked.

“Ha! No, I have a cat. His name's supposed to be Maximilian but my grandfather calls him Scruffy and it kind of stuck.”

It was such an odd thing to be talking to a Fey about, his grandfather teasing his cat, and for the first time since he'd left Yuri thought of home with some wistfulness.

Otabek was smiling at him.

Yuri quickly looked away and turned his attention to the lake. With Otabek right there, Yuri wasn't about to strip off and have a bath, but he walked to the edge of the lake. Flowers overhanging the water nodded their heads in the breeze, bending down to kiss their reflections, sending little ripples out across the water. When he glanced at the Fey, Otabek didn't seem to be observing him, his head tilted back to the sky and his eyes closed.

The surface of the lake revealed nothing about how deep it might be or what might live in it, only a mirror to the sky above, and Yuri did not step in, instead crouching down by the edge and using his handkerchief to clean himself up. The water was cool and crisp and smelled as clean as fresh rain, but Yuri was careful not to drink it.

It wasn't exactly accepting hospitality to drink from the lake, but there was no sense in risking it. He'd have to find his pack before the day was out, however, and he wondered if Otabek would help him look for it, assuming their contests, whatever they were, didn't take up too much time.

And assuming he won. He simply had to win. The alternative didn't bear thinking about.

He polished his armour as best he could, and rinsed out his hair. At least it dried much more quickly now it was cropped short, and he ruffled it and turned his face to the breeze, feeling refreshed and cool.

It was, of course, a beautiful day. The sun was now quite high, and when Yuri walked over to where Otabek rested the Fey appeared to be asleep against his tiger.

Vigilance rumbled at Yuri's approach and Otabek opened his eyes.

“Are you ready? Rested?”

“I need to get my pack back, so I'd rather get started as soon as possible. I'm quite recovered from this morning.” He was a soldier, and could fight all day and all night if he needed to.

“Very well,” Otabek leaped to his feet. “Your first task is simple. Obvious, too. This will be a trial of combat.”

Yuri set his jaw. “Good.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

“Not to the death, of course,” Otabek said. “Merely until one of us yields.”

“Mm.” Yuri was only listening with half an ear, the rest of his attention focused on mentally preparing for the fight. He'd expected it would come to this at some point, but he'd been prepared to wait for the third task.

It seemed Otabek was quite straightforward for Fey, and truthfully Yuri had always wanted to test himself against one. Otabek seemed equally keen, striding away from Vigilance with enthusiasm, looking about for a suitable spot for them to fight. Yuri followed, lance in hand.

He supposed Otabek would have the advantage of better arms and armour, and experience too, given there was nothing to indicate how old he truly was. But Fey did not understand death as mortals did, did not fight with it breathing down their neck, did not make a friend of it the way mortals had to.

Yuri had no intention of yielding, regardless of the outcome of the battle. To yield would be to lose his freedom, and Yuri had been prepared to die for less in the past.

His grandfather would mourn, but he would have mourned just the same if he'd fallen to an enemy footsoldier all those years ago. Here, death would be no random chance, and Yuri would be proud to die by the hand of a Fey prince under the bright skies of Faerie.

Thus he breathed deep and stretched his arms up towards the heavens, inhabited himself fully, knowing he might soon be parted from his mortal form, gazed at the world with determination and resignation.

Otabek wouldn't die today. Yuri might. Already he had a hidden advantage, as his heart quickened. Fight or die, and he always fought.

Otabek drew his sword, and it was obviously not gold, because gold would be a terrible metal to make swords from, Yuri knew that much, but it shone just as brightly, the sun flashing off it as Otabek cut the air experimentally a couple of times.

Yuri didn't flail about with his lance. He held it before him, and waited, brows knitted into a faint frown, but otherwise calm. He'd fought with rage and fear before, but this time he would have to be precise, have to be perfect.

“Are you ready?” Otabek asked.

Yuri nodded.

He barely saw Otabek move, just the sunlight flashing off his blade, but his instincts were good and he trusted them, and the Fey's sword rang as Yuri blocked it with the shaft of his lance. Fast, he thought, and ducked and parried again as Otabek recovered and whirled around to swing again on the backhand.

Yuri fought defensively, trying to learn his opponent's style. Otabek fought like no one he'd ever seen, and his swings had power that jarred Yuri's arms in their sockets as his lance took the brunt of it. He couldn't keep up a guard forever; eventually the nicks in his lance would weaken the weapon and Otabek would cut it clean in half.

The next time Otabek attacked Yuri swung to the side, sweeping the blade away and kicked at the Fey's ribs. He was well-armoured and it wasn't going to hurt him, but Yuri just wanted him off-balance for a moment, and then he struck out with his lance, aiming the honed edge for the back of Otabek's head.

The Fey's sword caught it and struck sparks as edge met edge for a moment.

They sprung back, having got the measure of each other. Otabek had a determined look, eyes narrowed in concentration. There was no conversation, no taunts or compliments, just a couple of circling steps around each other before the battle was rejoined.

Yuri looked for a gap in Otabek's defences, whirling the lance in both hands, as the Fey parried, parried, parried, sparks flying around them. They'd trampled down the grass in a rough circle, crushed the flowers, and the sweet scent of broken plants rose from their feet. There was little here to give either of them an advantage, no high ground, no cover.

Yuri kept his distance, using the length of his lance to full effect, obliging Otabek to parry and duck to try and get closer with his sword.

Otabek lunged, and rather than parrying, Yuri twisted out of the way, the blade sliding past his stomach. He drove the end of his lance into the ground and vaulted up over the Fey, kicking one foot down into his shoulder for extra height. He had enough momentum to flip in air, bring his lance down ahead of him. Otabek didn't try to block it, instead scrambling out of the way as Yuri landed with a thud, knees bent, before springing up after him again.

This was how you did it, he thought victoriously as he lashed out again, Otabek forced to block awkwardly, backing away as as Yuri pressed his advantage.

I will not die here!

He bared his teeth as he lashed out again, one time too many as it turned out. Otabek caught the shaft of the lance with his left hand, and used Yuri's own momentum to yank him off his feet and toss him.

Fuck! Yuri landed on one knee, and looked up through his hair to see Otabek coming at him. He threw himself to the side and raised his arm as the Fey's sword bit into the mithril chain. Yuri grunted in pain but rolled and got back on his feet.

The chain had yielded to the sword, a gash in the silvery metal just below his pauldron, filling with blood as he snatched a glance at it.

“Yield?” Otabek asked.

“Hardly,” Yuri grated, and raised his lance again. His arm was throbbing, but he didn't think it was a deep cut. He'd had worse. He put the pain into his next attack, still using both hands but favouring his left. He had to end this sooner rather than later; the longer it went on the more of a disadvantage he'd be at.

He whirled and spun, using every trick he'd devised over the years, and coming up with some new ones on the fly. Otabek was just so _strong_. Hard to catch off guard and almost impossible to break his defences. He'd have to draw him out if he wanted to win.

Yuri gave ground, played up how tired he felt, let his injured arm rest, and Otabek took the bait, going on the attack, Yuri ducking and rolling out of his way as he lunged and struck. Yuri let him knock the lance aside, staggered, reeling, and then braced himself and struck low at the back of Otabek's knees, a weak point of both body and armour, and Yuri put everything he had into it, all the strength he'd pretended he'd bled away.

Otabek went down, knees buckling, eyes wide in surprise at being outmanoeuvred. Yuri whirled around to finish the job and demand victory when Otabek braced himself on one arm and flipped, plate armour and all, back onto his feet.

Now Yuri was the overextended one, the Fey inside his defences and bringing his sword down against Yuri's neck.

“Yield.” It sounded like an order this time.

Yuri yelled in pain and frustration and flung himself back, feeling the tip of Otabek's blade graze his cheek as he did so. Desperation and the fear of death gave him new strength as he battered at the Fey's defences. Otabek himself was frowning now, parrying as before but but his eyes were fixed on Yuri's face.

Yuri knew if it had been a real fight he'd be dead. A mortal couldn't hope to kill a Fey like this one in fair combat, and the thought made him furious. He bared his teeth and snarled, his wounds a distant, easily-ignorable pain as he hurled himself again and again at Otabek's defences.

His lance caught in the guard of Otabek's sword and they wrestled for a few moments, Otabek trying to push the weapon away while Yuri bore down, trying to get the blade near Otabek's neck.

Otabek gazed at him and Yuri wished he'd stop fucking _staring;_ that was a cheap trick, and unnecessary given the circumstances.

Then Otabek stopped fighting, easing the pressure on his sword as Yuri placed the tip of his blade against the Fey's throat.

“I yield,” Otabek said clearly, and as Yuri relaxed he let his sword fall to the grass with a soft thump.

“Really?”

“Should I kneel as well?” he asked.

“No, of course not.” Yuri flushed and took his lance back.

“You wouldn't yield. You would have obliged me to kill you.” He looked vaguely irritated, although mostly at himself. “I don't understand mortals, clearly, so you deserved your win.”

“I don't want to be a slave,” Yuri said.

“I wouldn't expect you to wait on me or anything like that,” Otabek said, blinking at him. “I'd rather you be happy that not.”

Yuri sighed, leaning on his lance a little. “I wouldn't be free.”

“And that matters so much?”

“It does.”

“And yet you accepted my challenge.”

“I did.” Yuri looked him in the eye. “What's the next one?” he asked.

“I don't know. I need to be more careful how I pick them, and you are injured. Let me-” He stepped forward, and Yuri instinctively stepped back. “You'll owe me nothing, I swear it,” he said more softly.

As much as he wanted to demur, Yuri knew he needed his wounds treated. “What are you going to do?”

“A bit of magic, if you'd allow me. Take off your glove.”

Yuri did as he was asked, his arm feeling hot and stiff. Otabek took Yuri's hand between both of his armoured ones and Yuri stiffened in shock as Otabek bent to kiss it. His hand and then his whole arm tingled, and his wound buzzed almost painfully for a few moments before the sensation faded, leaving nothing in its wake, not a twinge.

Yuri flexed his arm, and cautiously prodded the gash in his chain-mail. Nothing. Like the wound had never been.

“Easy as that?” he asked.

“It's more difficult than it might look,” Otabek said. He stepped up to Yuri and leaned towards his cheek.

“Ahh, um, that one's fine,” Yuri said, bending backwards out of reach. “It's just a scratch, don't worry.”

“But it's on your face,” Otabek said.

“Yeah, I always wanted a scar I could show off,” Yuri said. “I mean, I get to tell people it was given to me in a duel with a Prince of the Summer Court.” Now he thought about it, that was pretty impressive. He touched his cheek with his bare hand, rubbing away the dried blood. It stung a little, but wasn't deep. He'd be lucky if it scarred at all.

“Very well.” Otabek backed off and Yuri could breathe easier again. “I'm hungry. I think we should have a break before the next contest, don't you?”

“Yeah, about that. I don't have any food,” Yuri said. “I had some in my pack but I lost it when I was fighting the wyrm.”

“There's plenty to eat here,” Otabek said.

Yuri folded his arms. “Do I look like an idiot to you?”

“No,” Otabek said. “But I have no intention of tricking you by offering you food. It would be a bit beneath me. So, I swear, upon my honour as a Prince of the Summer Court, and upon the Moon and Outer Planets, that the food I offer you with my own hands carries no enchantments and no obligations, will sate you and nothing more.”

“Fine, I guess,” Yuri said, although his stomach was aching from hunger. He hadn't eaten anything since the night before, after all.

“Very well. Vigilance!” he called, and the tiger, who had been sunning herself and watching the fight without a great deal of apparent interest, heaved herself to her feet and padded over to them. “We can get food and drink in Forsake,” Otabek said. “Perhaps it would be best if you did not draw too much attention.”

“I don't think I can pass for Fey,” Yuri said.

“Why not? We just need to cover up your ears. Your armour is a little unusual, but it won't cause that much comment. Mine is made for a Prince, not everyone dresses like I do.”

“Yeah, but.” Yuri stared at him.

“Yes?”

“My face?” Surely he'd noticed.

“What about your face?”

“Ugh. Why are you so thick? I'm not beautiful like Fey are. Obviously.”

Otabek blinked several times in a row. Opened his mouth to say something. Shut it again. Frowned.

“How many Fey have you met?” he asked eventually.

“Well, just one. What difference does it make?”

“I don't think you need to be concerned. No one will be paying much attention to us. You do look a bit different up close, but it's not bad. I mean, it's not that noticeable.”

Yuri shrugged. “Well, you're the expert. I just really want some food, so whatever you think is best.”

Otabek went through the saddlebags strapped to Vigilance's side, and took out a cloak the colour of sunlight shining through leaves. It felt soft and light in Yuri's hands, and rustled like the summer breeze in the grass when it moved.

“No obligation,” Otabek said. “You're just borrowing it anyway.”

Yuri hesitated for a moment, and then draped it over his shoulders and pulled the hood up over his head. Instantly he felt a bit cooler, as the cloak did nothing to block the breeze and the sunlight that filtered through the hood dappled his face.

Otabek regarded him gravely for a few moments. “Suits you,” he said. “Matches your eyes.” He looked away again and swung himself up onto his tiger. “Come on, let's get going.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

They crossed the lake via the silvery bridge, the metalwork so fine and intricate it glittered in the sun. Yuri leaned to the side and gazed down through the gaps to the lake below, the surface a deep blue-green dotted with lilies. Sometimes he thought he saw fish moving in the depths, but they were so high up it was hard to say for certain. Near the shore of the lake numerous little boats floated, as Fey fished and played instruments and dozed on the water.

They slowed down once they arrived in Forsake, although nowhere could be said to be crowded. There seemed little to do here but play dice and recite poetry. Some Fey were working, serving food mostly, and Yuri assumed that somewhere armour was forged and shoes were cobbled, but no one could be said to be working hard. Everything seemed oddly effortless, he thought as he caught a glimpse through an open window of a baker folding dough into intricate flowers and dusting them with sugar with the most casual flicks of her fingers.

They padded sedately over a bridge spanning a canal, and Yuri had to stare, and shake his head, and blink, and stare again before his mind accepted that the water was flowing _up_ out of the lake to feed the terraces overflowing with green on the hills surrounding the town.

Everyone looked young, although some nevertheless gave the impression of great age, and he saw only one child, the girl playing a flute on a balcony to a small honey-coloured dog dancing on its hind legs.

Fey did not have children. They stole them, he reminded himself, as he tried to gather his wits, and pulled the hood of his cloak further forward across his face.

As Otabek had promised, no one paid them a lot of attention. Occasionally Fey would bow politely to him as they passed, but there was none of the obeisance Yuri would have expected before a prince.

He didn't seem to be going anywhere in particular, letting Vigilance wander where she would, and when they finally stopped outside an eatery on a little rise overlooking the lake, hunger was gnawing painfully at Yuri's guts.

They dismounted and were ushered under the awnings by a cheerful Fey with little fangs and a single lock of red hair among his otherwise golden curls. They weren't the only customers, but it wasn't crowded, and Otabek picked his way around low tables and cushions until he found one off to the side so they were partially hidden by the back of a low couch.

Yuri settled himself down awkwardly, the cloak rustling. He kept his hood up until the Fey had returned with a platter of food and an earthenware jug of something so cold beads of water condensed on the outside of the vessel.

Otabek took off his gloves and dipped his hands into the pewter bowl of water sitting on the table, and thanked the Fey for the food. Yuri said nothing, doing the same but keeping his head down. Once the Fey had gone, Yuri pushed his hood back, reached for a peach, stopped, and pulled his hand away again.

“You said specifically that the food was safe from your own hands,” Yuri said. “Not from theirs,” he indicated the other Fey with a jerk of his head.

“You're so suspicious,” Otabek said with a smile. “Not that it's a bad thing. It's just.” He frowned, looking thoughtful. “Its seems familiar somehow, like you remind me of someone.”

“Who?” Yuri asked curiously.

“I don't remember.”

“I thought Fey had perfect memories,” Yuri said.

“Not under all circumstances,” Otabek said, frowning, and Yuri sensed further enquiry on the topic would not be welcome.

“Well, I want to eat,” Yuri said, unable to stop himself sounding petulant. He could smell how sweet the fruit were, and the bread was so fresh a curl of steam was rising from its brown crust, his mouth watering as he stared at it.

“Relax, Yuri.” Otabek picked up a peach and held it out to him. “From my hands.”

Yuri regarded him for a moment and then he leaned forward and bit into the peach, careful not to bite Otabek's fingers as he did so. He'd always known the fruit of Faerie had been the sole reason many mortals never returned, but he hadn't understood it until he'd tasted it for himself.

Sweet did not describe it. He could taste the sunlight that had warmed the fruit, the dew that had cooled it, he smelled the flower it had once been, heard the bee that had alighted upon it. He could taste all of spring and summer. He could taste again the first peach he'd ever tried, solemnly taken from his Mother's hand at the markets, a strange, marvellous thing, huge in his chubby, childlike hands, his face sticky with juice. Every peach he'd ever tasted, every peach he ever would taste, none could compare.

He'd closed his eyes without realising it, and he opened them again as he licked juice from the corner of his mouth.

Otabek was staring at him, his mouth hanging open slightly, and the tips of his pointed ears were red. He was still holding the peach.

“What?” Yuri asked, feeling suddenly very self-concious.

“I was going to hand it to you,” Otabek said faintly. “I mean you didn't have to- That is, I don't mind, if it's a mortal custom.”

Yuri covered his mouth with his hand, quite sure he'd gone bright red. “I misunderstood,” he mumbled. He practically snatched the peach out of Otabek's hand and concentrated on devouring the rest of it, absolutely mortified.

“No harm done.” Otabek murmured.

The worst of it was, he still couldn't serve himself, so he had to point out what he wanted Otabek to hand him, which was still really weird, although Otabek didn't seem to mind any. It was hard to know what he was thinking, no matter how many times Yuri tried to read his expression.

Eventually Yuri forgot his embarrassment, as he worked his way through cherries as dark as night, crystallised fruits crisp as coral on the outside and sticky and sweet on the inside, thick, rich butter melting into hearty, sour bread, and strange slices of dark meat cooked in spices stranger still, so fragrant it made his head swim and put him in mind of distant places.

Otabek ate as well, keeping pace with him as they worked their way through the platter. Yuri didn't speak except to request something, concentrating on the food, lost in the sensations conjured up by the meal.

He wondered if he'd ever get used to it if he lived here long enough, if he'd take this all for granted. Sated and happy he lay back on the cushions and gazed at the clouds rolling across the afternoon sky and the sunlight glinting off the lake.

He was so tired and relaxed, he had to fight to keep himself from nodding off. He didn't think Otabek was fooled, looking at him sidelong.

“You should rest,” he said. “But perhaps not here.”

“I'm fine,” Yuri said. “Have you thought of the next task?”

“I have,” Otabek said. “You wish to be king, correct? A king is more than his martial prowess. You fight brilliantly, but I can't let my sisters marry someone unrefined, someone who couldn't entertain them properly.”

“I see,” Yuri said warily, not entirely liking where this was going. No one had ever called him 'refined' and he hadn't really had a royal education either.

“Your second task is to dance with us.”

“Dancing?” Yuri was horrified. “That's-”

“Perhaps singing would be better,” Otabek mused.

“No! I'm perfectly fine with dancing. Who am I dancing with?”

“Me, of course.”

That was actually a relief. “Like, right now?” He hoped not, given how full of food he was.

“Fey dance until dawn,” Otabek said. “I want to make sure you'll be able to keep up with my sisters.”

“I see.” Hadn't he dreamed of dancing to the night music of Faerie? “So we start at dusk?” he asked.

“Precisely. Shall we be off?”

Otabek didn't pay anything for their meal. One of the perks of royalty, Yuri supposed. Vigilance had been well supplied with water and whatever sort of meat had left behind the bones she was licking when they returned. Yuri had his hood up over his head again as they rode up the grassy streets, under delicate arches and over canals, past overgrown alleyways, and up to the terraces. No one seemed to be tending these gardens, they grew wild and lush and tangled, and eventually they found a fig tree to rest under.

“Sleep,” Otabek said. “I swear no harm will come to you while you rest.”

And Yuri curled up and slept, trusting Otabek's word.

When he awoke the sun was a red disk in the west, and the lake glowed gold and orange to match the skies. Birds were calling mournfully, and crickets chirped in the long grass. Vigilance sat nearby, her head resting on her paws, and after looking about for a moment Yuri spotted Otabek perched on a rock a little way away.

The prince had changed out of his armour, swapped it for a fine outfit in shades of dark brown and ochre that would have done him credit at any mortal royal occasion. He'd untied his hair and was combing it carefully, the long dark strands gleaming where the light caught it.

Yuri watched for as long as he dared, not wanting to be caught at it, before stretching and making his way over. Otabek lowered his comb and flicked his hair back over his shoulders.

“I'm glad you're awake. It's nearly time.”

“Any rules I should know about?” Yuri asked.

Otabek shook his head. “Just stay on your feet until dawn.”

“I bet that's going to be harder than it sounds,” Yuri said. Otabek didn't deny it. “I didn't bring any fancy outfits though.”

“That's all right. You'll have plenty when you're king. Leave your lance with Vigilance; she'll take care of it.” The last of the sun was dropping behind the horizon, and Faerie was starting to shimmer in its twilight colours. Yuri could almost feel the music starting to stir on the breeze. Otabek extended his hand. “It's time, Yuri.”

Yuri took his hand and pulled him closer, and Otabek didn't object to him leading. Yuri knew a handful of dance steps, like anyone did. He'd just have to hope they'd be enough.

Otabek was an easy partner to dance with, his steps light, although Yuri mostly looked over his shoulder rather than into his eyes. The music was still swelling, gathering itself, voices starting to join in from Forsake and places further.

“My turn now,” Otabek said, and pulled Yuri up onto a low stone wall, waltzed him along it, forcing him to jump as the wall was narrow and uneven. He wasn't looking over Otabek's shoulder now, he was watching where they were going, or trying to. It would be easy to break an ankle doing this.

But it was still easier than it should have been not to, as if the music was buoying them up slightly, carrying them.

Yuri was tired of this wall, and the next time he had his feet on something solid he braced himself, tightened his grip on Otabek's torso, and lifted him off. Otabek let him, and then returned the favour. When he lowered him to the ground Yuri looked into his eyes, almost by accident, almost because he was compelled to, and then they were really dancing.

Yuri still couldn't follow the words, but the music was all around them, fireflies dancing in the corner of his vision as they whirled faster through the gloaming. The air smelled of distant rain, and Yuri had to trust his feet would find something to land on as the music grew faster.

Otabek's hair streamed out behind him, and his eyes gleamed in the starlight as the twilight deepened still.

They headed towards the lake and set the little boats rocking as they leaped from one to the next, and then Otabek wrapped his arm around his waist and lifted him and leaped, Yuri's heart lurching as they abandoned the last boat for the open water.

Something broke the surface, a smooth, scaled back, and Otabek's foot landed on it briefly before they were airborne again, and Yuri realised he was supposed to be leading now. Teeth gritted he aimed for the next one, by now realising the difficulty of the challenge he'd accepted, as giant fish breached the surface and sank again, apparently unbothered by being used as stepping-stones.

How they crossed the lake safely he didn't know, but they didn't stop. His feet were aching, and his throat burned as they danced on to the endless music. He couldn't tell if the stars were spinning or if it was his own head. His heart was a drum beat, going fast, the music flooding his veins, his bones vibrating with it.

Once they danced with others, reeling round a huge bonfire, light glittering off clothes of astonishing beauty, but mostly they danced alone. They danced through a brief thunderstorm, across treacherous, slippery rocks, lightning reflecting in Otabek's eyes, his skin shining with rain in the faint luminescence that clung to everything in Faerie, even in the depths of night. They danced for miles and miles.

While the Fey didn't tire, Yuri most certainly did. His legs burned from leaping and landing, his arms ached from holding them up, and he could not, must not, stop to catch his breath.

He relished the times Otabek took his weight, because for a heartbeat he didn't have to, but they passed the lead between them, and Yuri would spin and carry the Fey in turn. There were stories of mortals being danced to death, he remembered.

He couldn't stumble, even as he gripped Otabek tighter, his head drooping; he had to keep his feet under him. He felt like he could literally lose himself in the music, be torn apart by it, swallowed whole.

This is so cruel, he thought, as they danced somewhere between pleasure and pain, or beyond them. He had no idea where they were, or where they'd been, but maybe the stars were fading.

He nearly cried when the sky finally flooded gold, and the sun cracked the against the night sky and broke the morning over Faerie like an egg, rich and heavy. He let his legs finally give way, and he collapsed into Otabek's arms. The Fey caught him, looking at the sky as he lowered them to their knees, Yuri panting and gasping and shaking with exhaustion and relief.

“You did it,” Otabek said softly. “Impressive, Yuri.”

If he'd had any strength in him he would have objected to being held so, but Otabek smelled of the sun on new grass and fresh water, and his grip was gentle, and Yuri merely rested his head on his shoulder and waited for the world to stop spinning.

Something floated across his field of vision, something that didn't belong on this grassy plain glowing with morning sunlight. Something sparkling and white. A snowflake?

“What's that?” he asked, and felt Otabek turn to look over his shoulder.

The Fey frowned. “Uh oh.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

Otabek's tone of voice was enough to have Yuri pushing away, finding his own feet and rallying what strength he had left for whatever was coming next.

Otabek got to his feet as well, tying up his hair again, and as he did so his soft, elegant dancing clothes dropped away from him, peeled off like ash flaking from a burning Yule log, revealing his armour underneath. It had been nothing more than a glamour, Yuri realised.

His hands twitched for his lance, but there was no sign of Vigilance and Otabek did not seem inclined to summon her.

In the soft morning light he felt an unnatural chill creeping across his skin, and several more snowflakes danced across the grass. Otabek didn't draw his sword, but he did look braced for something, his jaw set and brows knitted in a frown.

Yuri shivered, and he realised he could see his breath in front of his face, as a swirl of snow gusted across the field, crystals within it glittering in the morning sun, and as he hunched his shoulders against the cold he realised someone was walking out of it.

Fey, of course. He had eyes the colour of icebergs, and long silver hair that practically shone, tied back and rippling like a waterfall as he moved. He was taller than them both, dressed in armour the colour of the moon, trimmed with dark fur and what looked to be shards of ice.

A crown of frozen blue flowers rested on his head, and he left a trail of frost across the grass as he walked, the frozen stems crunching under his feet.

A hand landed on the back of Yuri's neck, and he flinched, alarmed to be caught off guard so easily, distracted by the stranger.

“Kneel,” Otabek muttered, and pushed him down as he also bent his knee as they waited for the newcomer to approach.

“Rise, Prince of Summer,” the stranger said. “And introduce us.”

Yuri took note that the order had been specifically addressed to Otabek and so remained kneeling, even though his instincts told him to move. He clenched his fists to try and warm his fingers up.

“Your Majesty, may I present Yuri, a mortal soldier. Yuri, you kneel before Victor, the Winter King.”

“Your Majesty,” Yuri said, not daring to look up, instead glaring at the ground.

“Stand up, stand up, I want to get a look at you.” He didn't sound unfriendly at least, not what Yuri would have expected from the Winter King, and when he did get to his feet, Victor was smiling at him.

“How did you know he was here?” Otabek asked.

“Hmm.” Victor placed a gloved finger to his lips. “The North Wind told me.”

“I see,” Otabek muttered, not looking happy at all.

“Wow, he's quite something,” Victor said. “I had no idea mortals grew up like that. Faerie hasn't seen a full-grown one in so long.”

Yuri felt like a mannequin in a shop window, or perhaps a portrait, the way Victor regarded him. He met his eyes boldly, even as something inside him quailed to do so. Victor regarded him closely, walked around him to admire him from all angles and finally turned to Otabek.

“I like him!” he declared. “He'd make such a wonderful wedding present. Why, even his name is so similar to that of my beloved; it will no doubt delight him.”

“He's not mine to give, Your Majesty,” Otabek said.

“But he will be, will he not? You've still some time. The talks drag on so, but this will be resolved before they end.” He turned back to Yuri. “We'll meet again, mortal. You'll have such a marvellous time in my court. Frost will suit you.” A rumble of thunder interrupted him, and he sighed. “Well, duty calls.”

Otabek bowed, and Yuri followed his example, and a few moments later he felt the cold ease and the chill in the air faded. When he straightened up again, the king had left, only a few melting ice crystals in his wake.

Otabek was staring after him, eyes narrowed, arms folded, and his expression grim.

“A wedding present,” Yuri said. “So he's getting married?”

“Mm. To Yuuri, a Prince of the Autumn Court, which has upset an awful lot of plans, hence the negotiations.”

“A king marrying a prince?” Yuri asked.

“Why not? A king may do as he pleases.” He shook his head. “I can't refuse him. He's not my king, but he is _a_ king, and he asked specifically for you as a gift. To deny him is an insult he may or may not take lightly, as the mood strikes him. A grave risk and a burdensome debt, at the very least.”

“I'm not yours to give, as you said,” Yuri pointed out. “I've completed two tasks already. Give me the third, and then it won't matter what he wants.”

“The third task is impossible,” Otabek said flatly.

“Let me be the judge of that.”

“No, you don't understand. The third task is always impossible regardless of what it is; that's how these things work. If a mortal manages to complete it, it's usually because they had help. You're not supposed to win, Yuri.” There was no trace of mirth or satisfaction in his expression.

“That's not-”

“Fair?” Otabek regarded him calmly. Of course it wasn't fair; Yuri should never have forgotten that.

Yuri felt oddly hurt. He realised he'd taken it for granted that Otabek wasn't like that, and to be fair he was clearly unhappy with the situation. Fey are bound by their words, and are undone by them, and it is in their nature to be sly. Yuri knew he had no choice but to continue as he'd begun.

“Give me the task,” Yuri said. “I might surprise you.”

“You do that a lot,” Otabek said. “It's so familiar.”

“You said that earlier. Have you met any mortals before?”

“I suppose I must have,” he said. “Are they all like you?”

“Not at all,” Yuri scoffed, folding his arms. “Why don't you know if you've ever met any or not?” He frowned mulishly, determined to get Otabek to answer.

Otabek looked like he was going to refuse to respond for a few moments, and then he sighed, and his shoulders dropped.

“I went to the mortal lands once,” Otabek said, with a resigned shrug. “I was sent to obtain a child because a favour was owed, as is often the case.”

“You stole a child?” Yuri asked.

“No. We can't just walk off with children, regardless of what mortals think. They must be traded or persuaded. Mortals don't trade their children away like they used to, although they can still be tricked. I don't know what happened. Clearly I failed, and I paid the forfeit.”

“What did you lose?” Yuri asked.

“A hundred years of memories,” Otabek said. “So I don't remember any of it. I only know what others told me.”

“A century gone, just like that.” Yuri tried to imagine it. “How long ago was this?”

“I don't know. Years now, but not that many.” He smiled faintly, “We're not good at keeping track.”

Yuri was still exhausted from dancing, and now that Victor had gone he flopped on the grass and stretched his aching legs. He had no idea where they were, as the only reference point he had were the violet hills; all else was unfamiliar fields and strange grassy mounds which didn't look quite natural, some topped with trees and others with stones or ruined buildings. They'd danced across them, up and down, until the sun rose, and over some Otabek had warned him to step lightly.

“If you're obligated, then you'd better give me my third task,” Yuri said, unable to keep from sounding bitter.

Otabek sat down beside him, and frowned, thinking. Yuri stayed silent, listening to Faerie stir in the morning sun, watching a flock of goats with long, white fleece and black shining horns tread solemnly through the dew-speckled grass on one of the mounds. As he watched, an eagle dropped from the sky, revealing itself to be much further away, and much larger than Yuri had expected as it swooped down on one of the goats, the flock scattering in alarm as the bird took to the skies again, the sun glinting red-gold off its feathers.

“Give me,” Otabek spoke. “That which my heart most desires.”

“That's my task? Are you going to tell me what your heart most desires then?”

Otabek looked at him, “I would if I knew, although if I knew then it might not qualify as an impossible task, depending on what it was.”

“How can you not know what you want most?” Yuri asked.

“What do you want most then?” Otabek asked, curiously.

“To go to Faerie, to see those violet hills and crystal domes.”

“You're in Faerie now, however. The hills are right there.” He pointed.

“Then, hm.” He watched a bee alight on a flower that looked rather like a pink bluebell. “I suppose I don't know either. I haven't had time to think about it. I've wanted to go to Faerie for so long,” he said.

“Surely you want to be king.”

“Well, I don't want anyone _else_ to be king, but it's not the same. I remember sometime after my parents died I started dreaming of Faerie. Grandfather thought it was because I was grieving, but I never imagined I'd meet them here or anything like that. I don't really remember,” he trailed off, casting his mind back.

Just why _did_ he start to yearn for Faerie? Surely no one would have encouraged him. It was forbidden for mortals to travel to Faerie, after all. And yet.

“Someone must have told me about it,” he said. “I remember reading books later, but sometimes I felt they were wrong when they contradicted what I already knew. I don't remember anyone telling me but someone must have.”

Someone. He could almost grasp it. A lonely, parent-less boy, and a dream of a place where he'd be welcome, honoured, a land so beautiful he couldn't imagine it. A new family to play with, strange beasts to befriend, all he had to do was step into the twilight-

“Someone tried to steal me!” he exclaimed. “A Fey, surely. And I didn't go.” He turned on Otabek, searching his face anew for a sense of familiarity. “If you had to try and steal a child, what sort of child would you take?” he asked.

“Um. Well, an orphan, I suppose, so as not to deprive someone of their child. Someone wilful, who would thrive here.” He rubbed the back of his neck, for the first time looking a little awkward. It was a strange look on a Fey.

“You keep saying I seem familiar, what if it was me you tried to steal?” Yuri asked. “Someone told me about Faerie, planted a love for it in my heart.”

“It's possible,” Otabek said. “Would you be angry if it was?” He actually looked apprehensive.

He'd asked so seriously Yuri paused to consider his answer, gazing at the deepening blue of the sky above them, the gold-touched clouds. He couldn't imagine his life, his own self, without the yearning for Faerie that had slumbered so long in his heart, that had taken him so far from home. “Well, no, I don't think so. Faerie is everything I'd dreamed of. I don't regret coming here, not yet at least. And I haven't given up. I'll work out what you most desire and I'll get it for you. I have to.”

Otabek smiled faintly. “Well, the rules don't say I can't help you. I just don't think anyone's ever wanted to lose a contest before.”

“You really want me to win?” Yuri asked.

“Mm. Well, I don't know how I feel about one of my sisters marrying a mortal, but if you managed to persuade one to she could do worse.” He frowned. “And I don't think frost would suit you.”

“A lot of people would probably disagree,” Yuri said, but he was feeling a lot better. “You know, if it was me you tried to steal, I suppose you were successful in the end. I got here eventually, after all.”

Otabek gasped, and when Yuri looked at him his eyes were wide as he stared blankly at the sky.

“Otabek?”

He didn't answer, didn't even move. Yuri waved a hand in front of his face and got no response.

“Otabek! Hey!” Now slightly alarmed, he grabbed the Fey by his armoured shoulders and shook him slightly as he peered into his eyes. They didn't seem to focus on him at all, although it was a bit hard to tell. “You're not enchanted or something are you? Say something.”

Otabek finally blinked, and gazed at Yuri's face. “It was you. I remember.” He seized Yuri's arms. “You left the mortal lands, and came to Faerie after all; I completed my task.” His gaze wandered again. “It's all coming back to me.”

“You remember?”

Otabek looked at him again, his mouth slightly open. “I do. It _is_ you. You've grown up; I hardly recognise you. But I remember your eyes; so fierce and determined. You asked me so many questions I was sure you were going to come with me and then you said no. You had to look after your grandfather. You were going to become a soldier and protect him.”

“That sounds like me,” Yuri said, feeling slightly choked up. He still couldn't remember talking to Otabek, but Fey tended not to linger in mortal's minds.

“I remember,” Otabek said. He shook his head. “So much.” He released Yuri's arms and Yuri edged back, kneeling on the grass next to him.

“Good things?” he asked.

“All Fey who do not avoid each other completely quickly become entangled in a web of debts, favours, and contests. To forget them utterly is to be blinded.” He shot Yuri a look. “And taken advantage of. Still. No one knows I've remembered. There's an advantage for you.” He finally smiled then, and Yuri found himself smiling back.

If it weren't for the promise to the Winter King, and Yuri was starting to get the hang of how binding these promises were, failing to do the impossible might not have been so bad.

“I don't suppose your memories were what your heart desired most,” Yuri suggested.

Otabek thought for a moment and shook his head. “Our agreement still binds us, so I suppose not. It never even occurred to me that they could be restored to want them.”

“I see.” Yuri got to his feet, brushed the grass off his knees. “We'll just have to keep looking then.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

“Where do you intend to start?” Otabek asked.

“With you, obviously,” Yuri said. “I can't know what you want if I don't know what you're like. For a start, where do you live?”

“In the Summer Lands. Shall we go there?” Yuri could see he was starting to get a bit more confident about this. He truly did want to help.

“Yes.” Yuri clenched his fist. “We can do this.”

Otabek whistled, and Yuri felt a gust of warmth at his back. He'd never been to a jungle, only seen illustrations in books, but he got the sense of its humid, tangled heat as Vigilance leaped out of nowhere, Yuri's lance clamped firmly in her jaws.

She padded up to him, and Yuri carefully took the weapon from her, and gazed into her golden eyes. He wondered if what his heart desired most now was a tiger of his own. Her breath was warm on his face.

“Um, can I- Well, no matter.”

“Yes, you can pet her,” Otabek said, walking up behind him. Yuri handed him his lance without a second thought and tore off his gauntlets before reaching up to gently stroke her nose.

Her fur was warm and surprisingly coarse, and she lowered her head so he could reach up and scratch behind her ears and under her chin. She made a rumbling noise in her chest, and dragged her enormous rough tongue across his cheek.

It stung a little as it dragged over the healing scratch on his face, but he laughed with delight and nuzzled her back, flinging his arms around her neck.

“She is so lovely,” he said.

He heard Otabek chuckle as he approached and stroked her head. “She is. She was a gift; I got her when she was much smaller than this.”

Yuri imagined the giant tiger as a kitten and wondered if they were available for purchase somewhere in Faerie.

“Sorry, I got distracted,” he said, disentangling himself, feeling self-concious as Otabek smiled fondly at them. “To the Summer Lands then?”

They travelled in a direction Yuri thought of as south, although he was aware that his mortal conceptions of space and direction weren't necessarily reliable here, but the violet hills rose on their left, and they stuck close to them for now. There was something ancient and strange about their craggy profiles, and a curious mist clung to their peaks even in the brightest sunshine.

“What's on the other side of the hills?” he asked over Otabek's shoulder as Vigilance ran steadily along a road paved with great slabs of mother-of-pearl. He'd borrowed Otabek's cloak again, as the road was quite heavily used by a large variety of animals drawing various carriages and carts. They were overtaking a party of six Fey in a dray drawn by massive grey mice. The Fey, very merry despite the early hour, waved and called to them and invited them to stop and share wine.

Otabek declined politely.

“The gods live there,” Otabek said. “Or so they say. It's not wise to disturb them. They keep us close, but consider us ill-disciplined.”

“Can't imagine why,” Yuri said, and Otabek chuckled.

“We misbehaved and were cast out. To return is to be punished.”

“Have you ever wanted to go?”

“Faerie not enough for you, curious mortal?”

“Of course it is! I want to know what you want, remember?”

“Mm. I've never wondered about the gods,” Otabek said. “I think it's wise to let them be.”

“Fey aren't known for being wise,” Yuri pointed out.

“Maybe I'm different.”

“Maybe you are,” Yuri said softly. He fell silent again as the road curved around a hill and revealed another Fey city, this one surrounded by towering city walls covered in moss and carved with huge, monstrous faces exhaling cloudy vapours that settled like a moat of fog around it.

“That's Challenge,” Otabek said, indicating the city with a wave of his hand, Yuri having asked the name of every place they'd seen so far. “We enter the Summer Lands soon.”

Soon turned out to be the next day. When dusk fell they stopped at an inn built at the apex of a twisting wooden bridge that spanned a deep, dry canyon, and paid for their room and board in stories. Luckily, commonplace tales of mortal life seemed to be quite valuable, and they were plied with what they were assured was the finest food and drink, and Yuri touched nothing that Otabek didn't hand him, even though he said food duly paid for would be safe.

Yuri had wanted to ask Otabek more questions about his life, to better guess what he might most desire, but he was exhausted and could barely keep his eyes open after dinner.

The next morning he still didn't have any brilliant ideas. As Otabek saddled up Vigilance Yuri asked if he wanted to be the Summer King and was rewarded with a furious scowl.

“Don't say things like that! It's dangerous. We are nearly in the Summer Lands, and as you know already the monarchs have ways of finding things out beyond their realms. But no, to answer your question, and be grateful for it. Some things are truly impossible.”

“Noted.”

Otabek's expression lightened. “We're nearly home.”

The Summer Lands were not much further on, and Vigilance was soon carving a path through fields of golden grain, the horizon shimmering in the heat and the sky a deep shade of azure. Great solitary trees dripped with fruit, and dragonflies zipped across still, reed-fringed ponds. They plunged through thickets of flowering bushes, their perfume heavy and sweet in the air, and Yuri was glad of Otabek's cloak for a different reason as the sun beat down on them, his face shaded by the hood. Otabek didn't seem to mind the sun at all, and it gleamed off his hair and armour.

Yuri had missed summer, as it never stayed long in his home, and he delighted as Vigilance bounded through a stream, sending water splashing up over them. The tiger seemed more playful now she was home, and Yuri spotted others of her kind resting in the shade.

The passed through towns; Wile, Slumber, Decide, Promise, Beguile, each dazzling and beautiful in its own way, sparkling like jewels, but Otabek did not slacken their pace.

“I can't take you to the Court,” Otabek said, as they rode in and out of the shadows of the squall-ships and battle-storms of the Summer Court's Fleet as it hung almost motionless the sky above them. Occasionally they fired their cannons at towering pillars of reddish rock, apparently for practice, with a crack like a lightning-strike. “Not until you've completed the tasks. But you can see it from my house.”

As the sun dropped in the sky, the clouds thickened and thunder hung in the air; the fleet moved on, their sails still glowing with sunlight high above even as twilight embraced the land, stretching long, dusty fingers from every rocky outcrop and forested rise.

As the sun set behind them they started climbing, following a twisting path through a forest, and Yuri ached for the rain to arrive, for a breeze. And then the forest abruptly ended at a cliff, and Yuri gasped as he gazed out over the ocean, deep blue and endless, the clouds piled fat and creamy over the horizon, swelling with the promise of rain. Islands dotted the waters, scars of white pointed to hidden reefs and sandbars, and the smell of salt hung in the breeze that rushed to meet them, stirring the leaves and drying the sweat on Yuri's face.

“My house is there,” Otabek pointed to a small cove, white sand embraced by a sprawling complex strung with lights of some kind. It was too dark and too far away to make out the details, but in mortal lands a building of that size would have been called a mansion.

“And that,” he raised his arm again. “Is the Summer Court.”

It was on a large island that towered out of the sea, reachable by tree-lined bridges, a great rocky outcropping with steep, jungled sides, and at its peak a city of such blinding magnificence in the setting sun Yuri thought at first that it was on fire. It glittered and shone in shades of orange and red and dazzling white, spires stretching upwards to the sky in spiralling gold and marble. Several cloud-ships hovered near its peak, like handmaidens attending a queen.

Yuri stared, fascinated, but his instincts told him he should be afraid of such a place as well; there was something dangerous and uncompromising about it, all spines and aggressive angles.

“Do you go there often?” Yuri asked.

“Ever since I lost my memory I've done my best to avoid it. I can't refuse a summons from the Empress, of course, so let's hope she doesn't find you as interesting as the Winter King did.”

There was a steep switchback path down the side of the cliff, and Vigilance bounded along it confidently into the deepening gloom, underneath overhanging palm fronds and bromeliad leaves. Frogs sang in the gathering dark, and bats whistled in the air above them. Already Yuri could feel the night music of Faerie starting to stir.

Otabek's house was already ablaze with light when they arrived, the songs of Faerie now harmonising nicely with the ever approaching thunder. Lanterns were strung across the roof and from the overhanging verandahs, and lamps flickered indoors.

As they passed through the wooden gate a peacock sitting on top gave a cry, and fluttered after them as the front door opened welcomingly.

No one stepped out to greet them, however.

They made their way through a lush and fragrant garden to the house, and dismounted.

“My home,” Otabek said, inclining his head. “I hope it's to your liking. Do as you please, go where you will, all will be provided for you. I'm going to see to Vigilance before the storm arrives.”

Yuri climbed the steps onto the verandah and made his way inside. The house was made of wood rather than stone, the floors so polished you could use them as a mirror, and it was airy, with high ceilings and doors that slid back to let the breeze flow through. Yuri could hear the sound of the waves and he hurried right through the house, following the salt-laced wind until he came to the verandah on the other side. It overlooked the beach, the steps leading down to the white sand, and he could hear a few spits of rain starting to land on the tiled roof as thunder rumbled overhead. The Court was still glowing, fireworks lighting the sky around it, and he hoped he wouldn't have a room that overlooked it; it was bright enough to keep one from sleep.

He heaved a sigh and sat on one of the carved wooden couches decorated with embroidered pillows. Tomorrow he'd have a look around for clues as to what Otabek might truly desire, but for now he was glad to have found a place to stop for a while. He'd long forgotten how many days he'd been walking and riding. It was a relief to be off his feet.

He'd taken off his gloves and boots when Otabek joined him. The Fey was dressed probably as informally as a Prince ever did, a white linen shirt embroidered at the cuffs and dark, loose trousers shot through with silver thread. His feet were bare and his hair was down again.

“There are clothes in the closets,” he said, letting Yuri have the couch to himself and sitting on a nearby chair. “Help yourself to whatever you'd like. Consider all the food here offered from my own hands.”

“Getting tired of feeding me?” Yuri tried to joke as he gazed out over the carved wooden railing. The rain was coming down more steadily now, sparkling where it was illuminated by the lanterns; although they appeared to be nothing more than coloured paper and flame, they burned just as brightly in the rain.

“No. But it must be tiresome to be fed.”

“You don't have any servants,” Yuri said. “I kind of expected you would, being a prince and all.”

“Mm, well, most do. But Fey are proud; how do you imagine they come to be in the service of another?”

“They lose a challenge,” Yuri said.

“Or a bet, or owe a favour. I'd rather not live with those who resented me or were trying to curry favour.”

“What about me? You were originally playing for _my_ servitude,” Yuri objected.

“I wouldn't have ordered you about. It would have been just like this, like we are now.”

“Only I couldn't leave.”

“That is how the game is played,” Otabek said. “I can no more change it than you can. I supposed you'd grow to like it eventually, even if it took time.”

“And now?”

“Now I'm not so sure.” He bowed his head, a strand of hair falling in front of his face. “I regret that I am obliged to give you to the Winter King. He's not cruel, not as past kings have been cruel, but I would describe him as thoughtless.”

“Well, I'm not done yet. Do you have any ideas about what you truly want?”

“I have everything I could need,” Otabek said.

Yuri noted that wasn't exactly answering the question, but he was tired, and tomorrow was another day.

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

Yuri slept deeply to the sounds of rain and thunder in the room Otabek had given him. He was unused to such hot weather, and he pulled open the doors leading onto the verandah to let in the cool air. He slept on fine down under silken sheets, and appreciated none of it; too tired to care. When he woke up the sun washing warm over the room, he luxuriated for a while in the softness of the bed. When he was king, he supposed, he could sleep on such a bed every day.

Otabek's house _did_ things. When he woke up, his armour gleamed like new and the gash in the chain was mended. While he was examining it he heard a rustle from the bed behind him, and whirled around, alarmed, to see it made perfectly again.

“Having a couple of servants would be less creepy than that,” he muttered. He didn't need his armour today, and the sea outside looked clear and inviting, so he opened one of the cupboards and found a pair of embroidered linen trousers that resewed themselves as he pulled them on to fit him better. Fey didn't seem to grasp the concept of plain clothes; everything that appeared simple at first glance turned out upon closer inspection to be subtly decorated, finer work than mortal tailors were capable of.

When he padded into the dining room the table was full of food as it had been the night before, and he helped himself sparingly, eager to swim. He'd been in the ocean before, many years ago, but it had been cold and rough.

The sun had not been up long and the sand was damp and soft under his feet as he crossed the beach, and the water was a cool shock when he reached it. It was so clear he could see right to the sandy bottom of the cove, tiny fish and other sea creatures in the most brilliant of colours darting around under the surface. Further out it darkened to turquoise and he gazed at it in wonder, watching the breakers foam out beyond the cove.

“Yuri!” He looked up as Otabek called to him, his bronzed shoulders gleaming with drops of water as he surfaced and swam closer.

“I didn't want to wake you,” he said, when he was close enough to speak in a more normal tone. He tilted his head curiously. “Why are you wearing clothes?”

“Uh.” Yuri looked down. The ends of his trousers were soaked through. “Well. Just a moment.” This water was amazingly, _exceptionally_ clear, he thought as he tried to look at everything except Otabek. He turned away to get undressed again so he could put his trousers safely out of the way.

Surely Otabek wasn't doing this deliberately as he seemed utterly unconcerned and, okay, Yuri was a soldier; it wasn't weird to be naked in front of other people, but Otabek was sort of royalty.

Just don't think about it, Yuri told himself. And don't stare. Not even in the spirit of scientific enquiry because if his _ears_ were different...

Get a grip.

Unable to put it off any longer he shoved the trousers down and kicked them off. He turned and ran down the beach naked, and flopped into the water with a splash, the sting of it on his stomach and thighs serving to focus his mind a bit, and then he was safely underwater for a moment, tasting salt on his lips as he let the sea wash over him. He wasn't much of a swimmer and he paddled out like a dog, holding his head above the water.

“Here.” Otabek was close, too close dammit, all tanned limbs and wet hair and Yuri was glad he had too much water in his eyes to see clearly. Or at least, that was a good excuse. “Take this.” He had a chain wrapped around his wrist, and he untangled it and handed it to Yuri.

“What's this for?” he asked.

“Put it around your neck, and we can dive.”

Yuri did so, but he still wasn't keen on going underwater, even as Otabek submerged and wriggled off like he was born to it. Yuri laboured along on the surface above, until a hand grabbed his ankle and hauled him underwater. He gasped and struck out, and felt his other foot connect with Otabek's shoulder, but the Fey didn't let go and Yuri relaxed, sort of, when he realised he was breathing the water like it was air.

He tried to talk, but all that came out was a bubbling sound. Otabek grinned at him, strands of hair floating loose from his bun, and beckoned him onwards, out of the cove. Yuri realised he wasn't actually naked after all; he had a long blade strapped to one of this thighs, which absolutely didn't help anything, he thought as he watched the ripples on the surface cast an ever-changing pattern of light and shade onto Otabek's skin.

It didn't take Yuri long to get the hang of propelling himself through the water, now he didn't have to worry about breathing, and soon he could feel the swell and surge of the waves breaking above him as they swam out of the cove towards the open ocean. The sand was broken by outcrops of coral and delicate anemones, and around them small fish drifted unconcerned. Yuri tried to catch a couple, just for the fun of it, but they darted away, too swift for his clumsy human hands.

He watched fascinated as an octopus slowly ambulated across the coral, until he was distracted by some new wonder. He could have happily spent hours observing the underwater gardens when he felt something tap his shoulder. Otabek.

He pointed out further still, and Yuri was game, mostly, but wishing he too had a blade, as they swam out to deeper water. Otabek was so unselfconscious he was starting to relax about it, and didn't force himself to have to look away whenever he caught himself staring at the Fey's muscled back and arse.

This was going to be awkward whenever they got back on dry land though.

A shadow fell across them, and Yuri looked up to see large shapes in the water above. He glanced wide-eyed at Otabek, but the Fey merely beckoned and struck out for the surface. Yuri followed as he guessed what he was looking at were dolphins.

They didn't look much like they did in the books, much smoother and sleeker, and without the fearsome teeth the illustrators had assumed protruded from their mouths. In fact, they sort of looked like they were smiling.

Otabek stretched his hand out and one of them smoothly dived down to meet him. Otabek reached out for Yuri's hand, and pulled him in so he could touch the creature. It was warm and slightly rubbery under his fingers, and Otabek took his hand and wrapped it around the dolphin's fin, making sure Yuri had a good grip before drifting away.

Yuri guessed they were going to go for a ride, as Otabek summoned another dolphin.

He wasn't wrong, but he wasn't prepared for the speed and strength of his steed, and his arm was nearly wrenched from its socket as the creature swam up to rejoin its friends.

And up, and up and up, and the surface was rushing at him and then the dolphin leaped, Yuri still clinging to its fin, and he could yell again as they arced through the air for a few moments before plunging back into the sea.

It was both amazing and rather terrifying, and Yuri could feel his face stretched into a grin. Next time he was ready for it, and he whooped with delight as he caught a glimpse of nearby islands and the endless sky and sea before they submerged again.

Eventually the dolphins grew tired of playing and they dove deeper, past an underwater city of coral and basalt, and Yuri wanted to ask who lived there, but couldn't speak. They saw sea-turtles and jellyfish and sharks, but they didn't go out beyond the scattered islands towards the deeper ocean, and having seen what lurked in Faerie's forests Yuri was glad of it. There was plenty to see here anyway.

He realised, as they started heading back towards the shore, that the sun was hanging low in the sky. Hours had passed and he hadn't realised it, lost in the endless beauty and movement of the ocean. He was tired, now he thought about it, and hungry, and although his steed occasionally snatched and swallowed fish as it cut through the water, he didn't have that option.

He was relieved when they bid the dolphins farewell and started swimming to shore. Seeing Otabek's house and the cove was like coming home. He didn't even care how naked he was as he finally staggered out of the water, his limbs heavy.

He found a robe in one of the closets and pulled it on, too tired and hungry to bother with anything else. The salt had dried on his skin, and he felt sticky and very thirsty. Otabek had said something about a bath, but for Yuri food came first. He'd been reluctant to try the unfamiliar fruit the day before, but now he devoured everything, barely looking up when Otabek joined him, nicely dressed and not a hair out of place.

“Did you enjoy the swim?” Otabek asked later as they sat on the verandah overlooking the ocean, clean and fed. The skies were clear tonight and a huge orange moon was rising over the ocean, bright enough to rival the Summer Court, which once again was ablaze with light. Yuri could hear drums and singing when he concentrated, but he preferred the sound of the waves, and the cicadas humming in Otabek's garden.

Vigilance had joined them, the tiger sprawled on the verandah next to Otabek's chair, her tail flicking occasionally.

“Of course I did,” Yuri said. “But that's not why I'm here. It didn't really help me discover what you desire the most.”

“I desired to show you the ocean,” Otabek said. “While I had the chance to.”

“Yeah, but that clearly didn't count, did it? I'm still obligated.”

“I asked you to give me that which I wanted most. So, no, doing something I wanted wouldn't count.”

“No ideas?” Yuri asked.

“Fey are not very introspective,” Otabek said. “We leave that to mortals. We have to tie ourselves down with words and promises, or we'd just float away, or fly apart, and even then we do our best to subvert them. Mortals are always thinking about things.”

“You must have been mortal once,” Yuri said. “You all were.”

“Except for the very first of us, yes, I suppose so. But we're not any more.” He regarded Yuri solemnly, “You're strange creatures. And it's not really in our nature to imagine ourselves as anything but what we already are.”

“Your house is very nice,” Yuri said, deciding to try a different approach. “But don't you think it's a bit lonely living on your own like this?”

“Who else would I live with?”

“I don't know, it doesn't matter. But since you don't seem to have a family, maybe you need a friend.”

“Hm, you want to try and find me a friend?”

Yuri slapped his hands against his forehead. “How are you so dumb?” he asked. He glared at Otabek. “I'm saying I'll be your friend! I mean, we are kinda friends, aren't we?” he added, suddenly not so certain. Otabek smiling at him, Otabek beckoning him on, Otabek showing him the ocean, surely they indicated some sort of positive feelings—the muscled back and lean hips on display he didn't want to analyse too closely; he had the feeling it said more about him than Otabek.

“You want to be my friend?” Otabek asked. “When I'm the one who's put you in this situation?”

“Well, yeah, but it's not entirely your fault. You didn't know the Winter King was going to show up out of nowhere, and I did agree to the contest, even if it wasn't fair. I should have known there was a trick, and I appreciate that you're trying to make this right. You're not obligated to, so, for a Fey that's a big deal, right?”

“I don't know, I suppose so. I feel like talking to you puts everything in a new perspective. I can't tell you what I truly want, because everything's suddenly changed. I've changed; I've got my memories back, but I can't bring myself to care too much about any of them. Nothing was really that important after all.” He smiled, “But I would like to be your friend.”

“Good,” Yuri said, smiling back, wondering if he should feel hurt that he hadn't yet found what Otabek truly wanted. Mostly he felt sad. This house was too big for one Fey and a tiger, but whatever happened, he wasn't going to be living here long.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Yuri couldn't resist going for a swim the next morning, but he allowed himself no more leisure than that. Otabek hadn't asked for his charm back, and Yuri spent a little while floating on the bottom of the cove watching the surface of the water sparkle above him as the sun strengthened and little fish darted around him.

Then it was time to get to work. He learned Otabek's house responded to direct requests as he was muttering about pen and paper while searching through the drawers in his room. As soon as he'd uttered the words the next drawer he opened had exactly what he needed.

Well, no one _needed_ paper that rich and crisp, but Faerie was a land of abundance, and he sat on the verandah in the shade to start making a list of things to present to Otabek later, suggestions as to what he might like most of all.

It was hard going. Yuri idly drew lines around the phrase _another tiger?_ with his quill, and listened to the birds chirping in the garden outside. It was hard to concentrate here; everything was so bright and beautiful. Otabek's garden had few open spaces, instead it was all tunnels of bamboo and crooked, inviting stone paths winding among monstrous fig trees and lush ferns. Yuri could hear water trickling from somewhere nearby, and he was about to give in and go for a walk when he heard the harsh cry of the peacock from the other side of the house. Soon after that he heard voices; Otabek's and someone he didn't recognise.

Yuri rose to his feet silently and drifted through the house, not too proud to eavesdrop. Neither Otabek nor his visitor were speaking quietly and when he paused on the other side of a sliding door he could hear them quite clearly.

“They've concluded the talks?” Otabek asked.

“They have. I can tell you no more than that; the agreement does not concern the Summer Court, Prince.”

“Of course not. You're here to invite me to the wedding. When is it to be held?”

“In three days. The gifts will be presented after the ceremony and then all of Faerie shall celebrate. His Majesty was most insistent that I remind you about the gifts.”

“I hadn't forgotten,” Otabek said. “Thank you, Celestino.”

“Your Highness.”

“Three days!?” Yuri couldn't contain himself any further, and he flung open the door, surprising both Otabek and his visitor. The latter was a Fey with startling green eyes and a great mane of wavy hair arranged artfully and decorated with with carved wooden ornaments. He bowed politely when Yuri emerged, his adornments clinking as he moved and Yuri forced himself, rather stiffly, to return the gesture.

“That is so,” he said, regarding Yuri with interest.

“Let me introduce Yuri, my mortal guest,” Otabek said. “Yuri this is Celestino, Seneschal of the Autumn Court.”

Yuri folded his arms. “What's going on? Did he really say we have three days?”

“Is Yuri to attend the wedding?” Celestino asked Otabek curiously.

“Yeah, but as a gift, not a guest,” Yuri practically spat. “You're all immortal! Why the sudden rush?”

“”There's nothing sudden about this wedding,” Otabek said dryly. “It's been anticipated for a while.”

“Quite so. Thus His Majesty is impatient,” Celestino said. “Who wouldn't be?” He bowed slightly to Otabek. “I must take my leave, I have many messages to deliver.”

Otabek waved him off and Celestino bowed again before he transformed, before Yuri's startled gaze, into a fox with a magnificent tail and darted off through the garden.

They waited in silence for a while, until it was certain the visitor had left.

“I'm sorry,” Otabek said.

“Fuck you,” Yuri replied acidly, his hands clenched at his sides. “You've been no help at all. You've offered no suggestions, you've knocked back all of mine, and you just stand there calmly like you don't give a shit!” He could hear his voice getting louder but he couldn't seem to stop it. “This is my entire life, and you don't get it. Maybe you _can't_ get it, because you can lose a hundred years and shrug like it's no big deal but I won't even live that long.”

“I had to set you an impossible task,” Otabek said. “Those are the rules.”

“Fuck the rules!”

“I can't,” Otabek said, finally sounding a bit irritated, but there was a pleading edge to his tone as well. “It's the nature of-”

“Then shut up! Let me be angry for a while, okay? Just piss off and leave me alone.” Yuri turned and stomped through the house, and Otabek didn't try to follow him at least. He went back to his room and put his armour back on. He felt more like himself with its comforting weight across his shoulders, and he honestly wasn't sure what he was going to do next.

Was it possible to run away? He suspected it would be wasted effort, but he preferred to have the option to try, and he grabbed his lance.

There was no sign of Otabek when he left the house, but Vigilance was lying on the grass in the front garden, her head on her paws, and she raised it and looked at him. He patted her head as he went past, and she heaved herself to her feet and padded after him as he walked through the garden.

“Did he tell you to keep an eye on me?” Yuri asked.

Vigilance just regarded him steadily.

“Well, stop it. Sit. Stay.”

Vigilance didn't sit, but she did stop, watching him go with calm yellow eyes, her tail flicking.

Yuri slung his lance over his shoulder and started walking, stomping along with a scowl on his face, the ragged ends of his hair swinging in front of his eyes. He maintained his rage and his pace for long enough to raise a sweat and lose sight of Otabek's house, but as always Faerie cast a spell on him eventually, and he slowed down and started paying attention to his surroundings, rather than muttering angrily about Fey concepts of fairness under his breath. He hadn't taken Otabek's cloak, so he stayed in the shade of the trees, catching glimpses of the ocean through the foliage as he walked. He kept within the sound of the waves; he didn't actually want to get lost, after all.

Everything was strange here in the Summer Lands; the trees and flowers entirely unfamiliar to him, like nothing that grew in his home. He stroked black, velvety blossoms, and marvelled at huge, shiny leaves, he stared at iridescent birds hovering like bees over the flowers, and startled away from a pond inhabited by brightly coloured frogs the size of sheep croaking gently in a manner that sounded far more like conversation that frog calls usually did.

He walked out his anger, walked past it into a kind of numbness, and eventually he noticed the sun had passed its zenith and the day was starting to cool. He made for the beach then, his boots crunching over white sand littered with shells of a bewildering variety of shapes and colours. Tiny crabs scuttled out of his way, and the waves foamed and surged and deposited stones and bits of coral on the shore at his feet. As he watched a huge, silvery form broke the surface of the ocean beyond the islands; a sea-serpent a couple of miles long at least, its great body stitching the sea before it sank again, its fins fluttering.

The air shimmered with heat, raising sweat on his brow that the breeze off the ocean soothed. He stood there waiting for Faerie to reveal its next wonder, knowing it would, knowing he couldn't get away from it; there was no end to it.

He didn't belong here. It was exhausting to be so in love with the world all the time. Nothing was ordinary; no bread was ever stale, no flowers were ever wilted and dusty, nothing got worn or tired or dirty, except for Yuri himself. It was something the Fey could never understand, and he knew Otabek was probably trying to.

It might have been a mistake to yell at Otabek, as Fey didn't take insults lightly in general, but if he couldn't trust him not to overreact then he truly was lost and friendless. He'd apologise when he went back, because he knew he was going back. It wasn't in Yuri's nature to give up.

And if he ended up at the Winter Court, well, he wouldn't give up then either. Maybe he'd try and bargain with Victor for his freedom, or hope that his husband was easier to deal with. At the very least he'd see if they'd let Otabek visit.

He was his friend after all, and he'd feel a lot better if Otabek could stay in his life, he wasn't too proud to admit.

He walked back along the beach as best he could, detouring around when the sand petered out and the waves gouged out channels in the rocks and flung spray high into the air. When he arrived back at Otabek's house the lanterns were already glowing and the sky was red and gold and pink with sunset. There was no sign of Otabek, and Yuri was glad. He didn't want to have to deal with him just yet.

Instead he reinstalled himself in his room and went to get something to eat. The obliging nature of Otabek's house extended to the cupboards in the dining room, and right now all Yuri wanted was comfort food.

“Pirozhki,” he said clearly, and pulled open the cupboard.

It was empty.

“Pirozhki!” he tried again. “Pork pirozhki?” He shut and opened the cupboard again, and once more it was bare. “Can't provide it if you don't know what it is,” he muttered, and slammed the door shut with all the force he could muster. “Now this really isn't fair,” he muttered.

He slumped at the table, and choked down strange and fragrant delicacies; shellfish and other seafood fit for a king cooked in rich sauces, vegetables crisp and fresh and sweet and spiced, and wine the likes of which would move the Royal Sommelier to tears, but he barely tasted it. He ate because he knew he'd feel worse if he didn't.

The Summer Court was holding its nightly festival, and as he watched the fireworks wheeling and bursting in the skies around it he realised his eyes were blurring and there was a lump in his throat.

“I want to go home.” That, he was quite sure, was exactly what his heart desired most right then. He missed everything; his Grandfather, his cat, his little room above the forge with its sloping ceiling, his bed stuffed with straw and the old knitted bedspreads that he piled on top during winter.

He missed the view out his window, the one he'd found so dull and boring for all those years. He missed his comrades. He missed Mila's teasing him, he missed Georgi's dramatics—if nothing else they were always entertaining—he even missed getting angry at Lord Leroy's over-familiarity and condescension.

He took off his armour and flopped down on the bed, and he tried to hold his emotions back for a while, but eventually he gave up. What was the point of stoicism right now? He curled up into a little ball and buried his face in his arms and cried like he hadn't done since he'd seen Nikolai's face upon his return from war. They'd both cried then, Nikolai over how much Yuri had grown since he'd left, and Yuri over how much the old man had aged worrying for him while he'd been gone.

He was probably worrying right now, stroking Maximilian's fur in front of the stove and listening in vain for Yuri's returning footsteps outside.

Yuri was still sniffling to himself when he heard quiet footsteps on the verandah outside his room, and then a presence blocked the breeze for a moment before a warm weight made the bed sag slightly.

He rolled over, slightly alarmed, to see Vigilance resting her great head on the bed. She was too large to enter the room fully, her hindquarters still on the verandah as she crouched down.

“Hey you,” Yuri said, smiling despite himself. “You're a good kitty, aren't you?” He reached out and petted her nose, her eyes faintly luminous in the dark.

Vigilance rumbled at him, and nuzzled against his hand.

“I'm gonna miss you in the Winter Court,” he said. “And him,” he added, wondering where Otabek was, realising that the prince had just abandoned his own house, without argument, when Yuri told him to leave him be.

“He is trying, isn't he?” he asked the tiger. She huffed a sigh, and her eyes closed as Yuri rubbed the fur between them.

Yuri let his own eyes drift closed as well, and for the first time since he arrived in Faerie, he dreamed. He dreamed of a homely forge, and a cat, and his family, small though it might be.

When he woke up it was raining, even though the sun was shining through it, the drops making music on the roof, the leaves glittering. Vigilance had gone sometime during the night, and Yuri wondered if it was to welcome her master home.

He only had two days left because he'd wasted one moping. He wasn't about to waste another, and he rolled out of bed and went to put on some clothes.

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

Otabek was sitting on the verandah at the top of the steps, one knee bent up so he could wrap his arms around it, staring at the rain falling on the sea. He looked pensive, and he didn't move when Yuri walked up and sat down beside him.

“Are you feeling better?” Otabek asked.

“Yeah.”

“I'm glad. Fey can rage for years, mourn for centuries.”

“Sounds tedious,” Yuri said.

“I've always tried to avoid getting caught up in emotions like that,” Otabek said. “It leads to trouble, as you might imagine. It always struck me as a weakness of ours. It's best to remain calm, or try to, but perhaps it wasn't for the best this time.”

Did Fey ever admit they were wrong? Yuri couldn't think of any tales that suggested they did.

“I apologise for yelling at you,” Yuri said. “I know you care, and I don't want us to fight when there's so little time left. And, you know, I think it's good that you're calm. When I get angry sometimes I make things worse. I once kicked a hole in a wall because I was being a brat about something. We mended it later, but you can still see the spot.”

Otabek smiled at him, a slightly sad, sweet smile. “I was wondering if I could ask you what it was like to live in the mortal world.”

“I didn't think Fey were interested. It's very drab compared to Faerie.”

“Yes, I remember it in shades of grey and brown, but you miss it, don't you? It must have something going for it.”

Yuri knew they should be focusing on completing the task, but he found himself nodding. If nothing else, spending time with Otabek should help him understand him better.

“The mortal world has things Faerie doesn't,” he said.

“Like what?”

“Pirozhki, for a start. Your cupboards didn't have a clue.” Yuri did his best to describe it, and Otabek suggested they could try and coax something similar out of the kitchen. “Absolutely not!” Yuri retorted. “I'm sure it would come up with something amazing, but it wouldn't be right, wouldn't be like how Grandpa makes it.”

“Ah, but I'm curious now.”

“Well,” Yuri looked away. “If I ever get to go home, you could always visit,” he said, a bit uncertainly. “I'm not sure Grandpa would be happy to see you, but he wouldn't be rude enough to refuse to feed a guest. If you're allowed to go, that is.”

“We can go to the mortal lands, but they're further away than they used to be, and mortals aren't as friendly. But I would like to do that, yes.”

Yuri tried to imagine it, Otabek's otherworldly splendour in his grandfather's kitchen, and he smiled to himself. “You'd have to disguise yourself then, try not to look perfect.”

“Perfect?”

Yuri bit his lip, but he didn't take the words back. Otabek didn't press the point, instead asking if he'd eaten yet. Yuri shook his head.

“I've got something for you to try. It only grows in the Summer Lands.”

Yuri followed Otabek into the dining room, and observed a complicated process that even magic didn't seem to alleviate particularly, involving a quantity of hard black beans, a mortar and pestle, and a strange sort of double-boiler the size of a teapot that produced a quantity of steaming brown liquid.

It smelled, well, odd, but not unpleasant, and by the time Otabek had served them both the aroma had filled the whole room.

Yuri took a sip.

“Ugh!” He managed not to spit it out at least. “It's bitter!” Everything he'd tried in Faerie so far had been instantly delicious. What _was_ this stuff? And why was Otabek sipping it so calmly?

Otabek laughed. Yuri had never seen him laugh before, and even though his mouth still tasted of the bitter beans it was probably worth it.

“Try it with milk,” he suggested. “And sugar.”

“I don't understand why this is so great if you have to add all these other things to it,” Yuri grumbled, but did as Otabek suggested.

The odd thing was, the taste really did grow on him. He couldn't explain why exactly, but by the time he'd reached the bottom of the cup he knew he liked it, and probably wouldn't put as much milk in next time.

Otabek seemed to know what he was thinking.

“More?” he asked.

“Maybe just one.”

Yuri found himself talking, about his life, and about his time at war. Otabek wanted to know what it was that mortal kings did, and Yuri extrapolated on what he'd do if he was in charge of the kingdom, mostly try and make it so people like Lord Leroy didn't have everything their own way all the time.

The rain stopped, and the sun sparkled off the sea, but they talked on, or rather, Yuri did, and Otabek just listened, his chin in his hand and a faint smile on his face. Yuri didn't think anyone had paid him such concentrated attention before, and he realised with a slight shock that he was basking in it.

Maybe he'd needed a friend too, he thought. I really hope I get to see him after this, either in the Winter Court or back home. Although he hadn't mentioned it, Yuri had quietly given up on the idea of proposing to Otabek's sisters, even if by some miracle he managed to complete the last task. He had no doubt they in turn would have tasks and challenges to put to him, and frankly he was done with the whole thing.

Fey were not to be trifled with and he'd learned that the hard way.

“I feel like I'm learning so much,” Otabek said. “You might have books about Faerie, but we don't have a single one about mortals.”

“Well, I'm glad you're not bored. I doubt this is any use to you though. I should probably be asking you questions.”

“By all means,” Otabek said.

Yuri knew he should be asking about court etiquette and Fey politics, and what he might expect from the Winter Court specifically, and dozens of other things that might give him an edge as a mortal among Fey royalty.

What actually came out of his mouth was “I want to learn your fighting style.”

Otabek leaned back in his chair. “Of course you do,” he said with a grin. “All right.”

Which is how Yuri found himself back on the beach, a wooden practice sword in his hand to match the one Otabek was holding.

“I'm sure you're capable of adapting what you learn to your preferred weapon later,” Otabek said. “Fey are not drilled. We choose to learn to fight or not as we see fit.” He started with simple movements, aimed at the air rather than Yuri, and Yuri copied him, watching where he put his bare feet.

“Why did you decide to learn?” Yuri asked.

“Remember that wyrm? You never asked for my help; there was no obligation between us. Being able to fight gives me the choice to intervene in moments like that, where I can act without obliging myself or others.”

Yuri frowned, trying to copy the way he rolled his wrist. “What you mean is that you want to help people in distress.”

Otabek narrowed his eyes but didn't answer, and Yuri grinned, smug. It was not in the nature of Fey to help others, but it might have been in the nature of Otabek.

The basics didn't entertain them for long, and soon they moved on to practising against each other, and Yuri did his best to copy Otabek's sparse but flowing style until he saw an opening and couldn't resist taking it.

Otabek grunted as Yuri's weapon thwacked against his ribs.

“Really?” he asked.

“Come on,” Yuri said, and joined the battle in earnest.

They weren't hitting as hard as they could, but Yuri knew he was growing bruises on his arms and chest. It was a good sort of pain; one familiar to him from years of training just like this, although he had never fought in such beautiful surroundings.

Or with such a distracting opponent. Otabek had lost a button on his shirt at some point, and it gaped open as he moved, offering glimpses of his chest, which was somehow almost worse than when he'd swum entirely naked.

It still didn't seem a fair fight. Yuri knew he was taking more hits than he landed, no matter how much he tried.

“How are you so strong,” he growled as they locked swords, his whole body braced trying to keep Otabek's sword from bearing down on him. “Using magic is cheating.”

“Huh, we don't use,” he said. “We _are._ ” So saying he abruptly relaxed, throwing Yuri first off-guard and then, with one well-planted foot, off his feet and into the sand.

Yuri flipped to his feet and flung his sword at Otabek's head, surprising him to the point that he wasn't ready for Yuri himself to follow, busy knocking the weapon aside while Yuri tackled him off his feet and returned the favour.

“See how you like sand in your hair,” he said, braced over Otabek's body.

For a moment he thought he'd gone too far, that the bittersweet drink and the sunshine and Otabek's gaping shirt and gone to his head and now he'd ruined it, but Otabek was just getting his feet curled under him, digging them down in to the sand for leverage before he rolled them over in the sand and Yuri spluttered as a gentle wave rolled up the beach and doused him.

They wrestled in the shallows, and Yuri found himself unable to keep from laughing as they staggered about, stirring up sand and trying to toss each other in the water. Otabek might have been stupidly strong, but Yuri was taller and more flexible and the shifting ground beneath them put them on an even footing, or rather an equally uncertain one.

Eventually they got too far out to actually stand, and they separated to wade back to shore, their clothes clinging to them. I'm happy, Yuri thought, slightly bewildered by the feeling, and not in the enchanted, awestruck way he usually was in Faerie. This was simpler, and burned hotter.

He watched Otabek untying his wet hair, as his bun was by now a lost cause. He combed it out with his fingers and irritatingly it fell into place almost perfectly. He caught Yuri looking and smiled before looking away, tilting his head to gaze at the sky.

“The day's almost over,” he said, flocks of birds, or what Yuri assumed to be birds, wheeling in the fading blue high above them.

“I don't regret it,” Yuri said, and it was the truth. “It was a good day.”

“Yes, it was.”

If only there were more, Yuri thought, and he felt an ache below his breastbone that wasn't really homesickness, but something new and sharper, something urgent.

That night Yuri lay on his side in bed, watching the waves crash out beyond the cove, just indistinct flashes of white foam against the dark sea, no moon to light the waters tonight. The night was restless, the trees shifting in the wind, leaves rustling with a sound like distant applause. The night music was a deep beat in counterpoint to the sound of the waves, and it took Yuri's heart and held it captive.

He rolled over onto his back, tossing and turning, something electric in the air making the hair on his arms stand up. Time is passing. Time is short. Is it really wise to spend it sleeping?

He ran his hand across his ribs, pressing down slightly on the bruises Otabek had left, relishing the ache.

Fuck it. His bravery was unquestionable, and you didn't roll about with someone in the water if you didn't want to, didn't think it was worth getting sand in your hair and ruining your clothes just for an excuse to touch them.

He sat up and flung his legs over the side of the bed. In nightshirt and trousers he padded down the length of the verandah, past the dining room and the steps to the beach, towards the wing where he was fairly sure Otabek lived.

Otabek, Yuri learned abruptly, slept with his door open to the sea breeze as well. His room was no larger than Yuri's but was cluttered with indistinct objects gleaming in the gloom, his armour on a stand near the door. Otabek himself was in bed, apparently asleep, his arms around the pillow and the sheet just covering the curve of his arse as he slept face-down, a position weird enough to almost belong to a normal person. Yuri had half expected Fey to sleep prettily, like a corpse in state.

Now what?

Yuri's heart was beating fast as he stepped through the door.

The Fey slept on.

Yuri cleared his throat. “Otabek?”

“Hm?” He jerked awake, lifting his head from the pillow and rolling over to sit up. Yuri didn't think he was wearing anything under that sheet. Well, he swam naked, so it would make sense that he'd sleep that way too. “Yuri? Is everything all right?” He pushed his hair away from his face.

“Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “But.” Yuri didn't waste any more time thinking about it, and he pulled his shirt off over his head and dropped it on the floor. “You left me with all these bruises. Didn't even offer to kiss them better.”

He didn't know how well Otabek could see in the dark, but he could almost feel the intensity with which he gazed at him.

“Oh,” he breathed. “Yuri.” Otabek reached out and Yuri felt his warm fingers on his skin just above his hip. It didn't seem like a rejection so he stepped closer, and he could feel his cock thickening in his pants in anticipation.

Otabek dragged his thumb across Yuri's skin, up over a purpling bruise, and Yuri exhaled sharply through his nose as Otabek leaned forward and kissed it, open-mouthed, a flick of his tongue so light Yuri wasn't sure if he imagined it. He didn't know if Otabek had healed it or not and didn't really care; his skin tingled anyway.

Yuri grinned and kneeled up on the bed.

“Yuri.” Otabek's hand stopped him from coming closer, and he frowned slightly as he gazed up at him. “You're not doing this because you think it will complete your task, are you?”

“Well, it would be convenient if it did,” Yuri admitted. The thought maybe had crossed his mind. “But no. I don't think you're the kind of person who'd want this more than anything else.”

“It's getting up there,” he said, his voice rough.

“ _I_ want this,” Yuri said. “I already know I would have regretted it if I didn't at least see if I'd read you right.”

“Well then, come here,” Otabek said, and Yuri went, bending over as Otabek pulled him down into his arms.

Yuri hadn't returned from war a virgin, and this had a similar flavour to those fuck-before-we-die moments he'd snatched before battle, but no threat of death hung over them this time, only the sorrow of parting.

There was no rush tonight at least.

Yuri hovered a breath away from Otabek's lips, made him wait a few heartbeats, his neck craned back, his other hand on Yuri's biceps. He waited so nicely, Yuri couldn't tell if he was being obedient or just confident that Yuri would give in eventually.

Oh, who cared? His bottom lip was so thick and inviting, and Yuri closed the gap and wrapped his own around it, feeling Otabek tighten his grip slightly, tilt his head to kiss him back. Yuri kissed him slow and sweet, which was not his usual style at all, but he felt the way he did at the bottom of the ocean, slow and dreamy, and not quite convinced it was all real.

They pulled apart after an age, and Yuri watched Otabek's eyes open. He smiled, and then Yuri yelped as Otabek pulled him down across the bed, tangling him in the sheets and rolling on top of him.

Yuri opened his mouth to object and Otabek bent down and kissed him quiet, his hair falling across Yuri's cheek, his tongue sliding past Yuri's teeth.

“Now,” he said when he raised his head again, his hand making its way down Yuri's chest. “You said something about healing your bruises. I suppose I'd better get started.”

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

 

Yuri sighed, his fingers twisting in Otabek's sheets. The Fey was _very_ thorough about keeping his word. He ran his hands down Yuri's arms, gently pressing his thumb into his muscle every time he found a bruise, not hard, just enough for Yuri to feel it, the sweet, soft pain of a friendly battle well-fought. And Yuri would tighten his lips and frown a little, but it wasn't until Otabek pressed his lips to the spot that he'd squirm and dig his elbows into the mattress. It tingled and then it was gone, and Otabek was moving down his arms again, trailing his lips through the fine hair on his forearms, his fingers seeking out another sore spot.

He released Yuri's hands and moved across to his hips and stomach, and Yuri rocked his hips against nothing as Otabek worked his way back up again. Yuri groaned as he rasped his tongue across one of his nipples, his spit drying cool in the night air. Yuri pulled him up into a ravenous kiss and Otabek indulged him, his arms braced either side of Yuri's head, letting Yuri set the pace, lick up into his mouth and suck on his tongue.

“I'm not done,” he said, when they broke apart again.

Yuri by this point no longer cared about his bruises and he groaned but didn't resist as Otabek rolled him on to his stomach. If nothing else he could press his cock against the bed and relieve the ache a little as Otabek's strong hands kneaded at his back. There were only one or two bruises on his back, and Otabek had soon healed them and he flopped down beside Yuri, his eyes closed.

“Are you all right?” Yuri asked.

“I said it was more difficult than it looked,” he said.

“You didn't have to do all of them,” Yuri said. “I came here to, you know, go to bed with you, not because I couldn't handle a few bruises.”

Otabek opened his eyes and looked at him. “You asked me to though. Of course I was going to oblige you.”

Yuri didn't know how to reply, how to ask just how far Otabak was prepared to go for him. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to know; either way there wasn't any way this could last.

“I guess that means it's my turn then,” he said lightly, rolling over and flinging his leg across Otabek's hips and sliding into his lap. He was only half-hard after his work on Yuri's bruises, but all it took was Yuri squeezing his hips between his thighs and rolling his hips forward a couple of times, pressing his clothed cock against Otabek's to have him dripping on his own stomach.

Yuri thought should have taken off his pants first, but before he could dismount and undress Otabek placed his hands on his hips and thrust up against him, lifting almost all of Yuri's weight with his stomach muscles.

That was fucking hot, Yuri thought, leaning forward to put his hands on Otabek's chest, feeling him flex under his fingers as he pulled Yuri against him. Otabek was usually so reserved and hard to read, but not like this Yuri thought, not panting and hard and rolling his hips up whenever Yuri bared down on him.

Finally got him out of breath, Yuri thought victoriously, when a night of dancing couldn't even raise a sweat on his inhuman brow. He wouldn't have dreamed of rearranging them now even though his trousers stuck wetly to the end of his cock, and wrinkled tight around his thighs; they'd found a rhythm now, and Yuri curled down further, to better hear the little sounds pouring from Otabek's open mouth.

Yuri was tall enough that his face was over Otabek's and he leaned down to kiss him a few times, distracted, sloppy kisses, and Otabek's fingers were probably leaving fresh bruises, and these Yuri wanted to keep until they faded.

Yuri groaned, edging closer and dropped his head to one of Otabek's pointed ears. They were sort of cute, he thought, and without much further thought he nibbled at it.

Otabek yelled and almost threw Yuri off, his entire body stiffening beneath Yuri for long seconds, his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw set. Holy fuck, Yuri thought, feeling a wet heat seep into his trousers that was definitely not his fault as Otabek came all over his stomach.

He relaxed with a groan and whispered, “Sorry.”

Yuri grinned and ran a finger up his ear. Gratifyingly, he squirmed. “Now that is something they didn't mention in the books on Faerie. Is this a Fey thing or just you?”

“I don't know,” he said.

Yuri sat up. “You don't know? You've never done this sort of thing before?”

“You said yourself I don't have any friends,” Otabek pointed out. Before Yuri could investigate this further Otabek forestalled him. “Come here, I know how it's done.” He hauled Yuri up his torso and Yuri braced his hands against the wall as Otabek pulled his cock out of his trousers, and wiggled down the bed to give Yuri a bit more room so he could kneel up over his shoulders.

Yuri gazed down as his cock nudged against the Fey prince's lips and it twitched as he watched, tapping against them and leaving a glistening smear. Otabek glanced up at him and smiled.

“Awfully cocky for a virg-ahh.” Yuri gasped as Otabek lifted his head and swallowed Yuri's cock down to the root. He held Yuri's hips still as he pulled back and sucked gently on the head until Yuri whined.

“You were saying?” he asked, and before Yuri could answer he took his cock in his mouth again, and Yuri couldn't think of anything to say anyway, other than Otabek's name.

Yuri's nails scrabbled against the wall as Otabek pushed his hips back and forth, bobbing his head as spit dribbled down his chin. He didn't relinquish control of the pace, no matter how much Yuri arched and shuddered and tried to squeeze Otabek's shoulders. All he could do was pant and watch his cock slide in and out of those full, reddened lips.

“Otabek,” Yuri warned him. “I'm pretty close.”

Otabek hummed and didn't change either his grip or the pace, and Yuri couldn't take much more before he came hard, fists clenched against the wall, teeth bared, and his cock throbbing halfway down Otabek's throat.

Otabek coughed as Yuri removed himself and slid down onto the bed without bothering to either take off or pull up his trousers.

“Fuck,” Yuri breathed. His hair was stuck to his face with sweat and he ruffled it before leaning over and kissing Otabek's cheek. “I didn't know it was your first time,” he said. “I assumed someone as hot and princely as you got laid a lot.”

“Does it make a difference?” Otabek asked.

“Doesn't it? Your first time's supposed to be special and all that.”

“Was yours?”

Yuri snorted. “No. It was dumb. We were lucky we didn't get caught.”

“Then what does it matter?” he asked carelessly. Yuri could see he thought it was some weird mortal hang-up. He looked down and decided his dick looked stupid hanging out like that and he kicked off his trousers.

“This _is_ special,” Yuri said quietly. “I like you. You're not really like anyone else I've ever met, and it's not just the Fey thing.”

“Good,” he said simply, and when he held out his arm Yuri curled down underneath it, breathed him in. He smelled like sweat and sea salt, and Yuri lifted a lock of his hair and ran it through his fingers idly.

They dozed for a while and then Yuri woke up and woke Otabek up by breathing against his ear and Otabek rolled on top of him and Yuri came between his thighs before sliding down his body and Otabek tasted like almost like a mortal man and he sounded like one too. They slept again and Yuri woke up and said he was sticky and they walked out onto the beach and into the sea and the Summer Court was _still_ partying and Yuri barely noticed it as they slid under the surface and kissed and stroked each other.

Yuri lost track of time, but he was relieved each time he opened his eyes to starlight and was granted a bit more as he reached for his lover. He didn't want it to end.

It had to end. He heard birds singing, and he could feel the warmth of the morning sun on his back, even as he dug himself further under the sheets and buried his head under his pillow. They had one day left. The wedding was tomorrow. Maybe they should just spend it in bed, he thought.

“Yuri.”

Yuri cracked his eyes open to see Otabek perched on the edge of the bed, his forearms on his knees.

“Mm?”

“You deserve better than this,” Otabek said, looking over his shoulder at him. “We're not done yet. There might be someone who can help us.”

“Really?”

Help us, he'd said, not help you, and Yuri did not miss the distinction and his chest felt warm in a way that had nothing to do with sunlight spilling across it.

“There is one person who might be able to sway the Winter King.”

“Remove the obligation not the task,” Yuri said. “It's worth a try.” He flung back the sheets and leaned over to nip at Otabek's ear before hurrying back to his room, his arse stinging from where Otabek had swatted it in retaliation.

They ate swiftly and Otabek saddled Vigilance while Yuri petted her head. He wasn't really surprised when Otabek said their destination was the Realm of Autumn.

“We are invited, so we'll be allowed in without question,” Otabek said, as Yuri climbed on behind him. “But the place is going to be in a frenzy preparing for the wedding. Also, hang on, we're going to go fast.”

Fast didn't really describe it. As soon as they were out of the garden Vigilance gathered her strength and leaped forward, and the Summer Lands dissolved into an eye-watering blur. A single leap took them out of sight of the ocean, but she didn't stop. As soon as her paws hit the ground she was pushing off again, and Yuri curled down behind Otabek to keep out of the slipstream; it wasn't like he could appreciate the scenery.

They crossed the Summer Lands in mere minutes and when Vigilance slowed to a more normal run, they found themselves in a dark forest, floating wisps of light drifting among the dark trees with branches hung with lichen like the beards of old men. The atmosphere was much cooler, and there was a trace of wood smoke hanging in the air.

They ran on, past trees with leaves of dazzling orange and yellow that swirled around them and piled up in drifts, crunching under Vigilance's paws. Mist curled in the bottom of steep-sided valleys, and hung over cold, still lakes.

Otabek had been right about preparations for the wedding; as they passed through the towns of Admonish, Believe, Regret and Exult, each was a hive of activity. Ovens belched heat and sparks and smoke to the sky as great racks of meat were fed into their glowing maws, lanterns and lights were strung across the buildings, and carved gourds with candles inside lined every street and windowsill.

It was going to be quite a party.

“The Autumn Court,” Otabek said, and pointed to a towering crag of dark rock lined with forest. A storm hovered above it, lightning occasionally stabbing down to one of the spires, and the colourful trees shivered and rustled in a wild, playful wind that nipped at them with cold teeth, goading them to run and be reckless. Rivers gushed white and foamy down the steep, rocky sides of the mountain, and they were obliged to run within the spray to avoid the traffic; the road leading up to the Court was very busy.

The Court itself was a city of giant, luminescent toadstools and buildings carved complicated from shimmering rock. Otabek took the most direct route to the Palace, which sat under the spires and was apparently carved from a single block of wood. It had dozens upon dozens of windows, all lit up in strange shades of pale blue and orange.

They were obliged to dismount at the gate, and a Fey ran up to lead Vigilance off while the guards eyed them both suspiciously.

“I am Otabek, Prince of the Summer Court, and I wish to speak to Prince Yuuri,” Otabek said.

“He's a bit busy,” one of the guards said languidly, twirling her hair between her fingers.

“Nevertheless. I have the right to request an audience.”

“Nevertheless, he's got the right to refuse it. Nevertheless, you may pass and wait in the garden, Your Highness.”

Yuri kept his head down as they walked inside. They were in a garden through which huge deer strolled, their antlers brushing the branches of the trees, their eyes wise and old. Otabek found a wooden seat and sat down to wait as instructed, his armour dulled under such gloomy skies.

“There's nothing more we can do but hope Yuuri will agree to see us,” he said.

“Do you know him well?” Yuri asked.

“Not at all, really.”

“Oh.” Yuri paced around a while, as thunder rumbled across the magnificent sky. Dark clouds were torn ragged by the wind, and the storms flashed and boiled. Yuri couldn't sit still, the wind ruffling his hair scented with pine and stone and rain and smoke. “Can I explore the garden?” he asked, because Faerie was still no less a wonder to him than when he'd arrived, and he might not get another chance to see this slice of it.

“By all means. We're guests. No harm will come to us.”

Yuri grinned. “I won't go far,” he promised as he set off, doing his best to memorise where Otabek was waiting.

 


	12. Chapter 12

Fallen leaves crunched under Yuri's feet as he made his way through the garden. The deer were unafraid of him, and they came quite close, although Yuri wasn't going to risk petting them. It was much cooler here, but not yet cold; his armour was enough to keep him warm. With the clouds swirling above he had no way of knowing what time of day it was and how much time they had left.

He heard some strange sounds from up ahead, a bit like conversation but not in a language that made any sense. He could hear water bubbling too, and for lack of anything better he followed the sounds until he came across a series of pools, the water steaming gently. A troupe of monkeys with grey fur and long, intelligent faces sat in the warm water smoking pipes and drinking something from little cups.

Some of them looked up when he appeared, and he smiled nervously, but they quickly ignored him and went back to their unintelligible chatter. The water smelled good, mineralised and invigorating, and since the monkeys didn't seem to mind he started exploring the pools, climbing up a series of carved steps to the top one, wondering where the water was coming from.

The top pool must have been the source of the spring, because there was nothing feeding into it. There weren't any monkeys up here, just as single, naked Fey with his head one one of the rocks and his eyes shut.

“Urk! Sorry!” Yuri started when he saw him. The Fey lifted his head and blinked at him. He had dark hair and eyes, but his skin was paler than Otabek's, and he had soft, pleasing features.

He sighed deeply.

“It's all right.” He let his head loll against the rock again, practically burying his face in it.

“Are you okay?” Yuri asked. He didn't really look okay and Yuri knew he probably shouldn't get involved, but if he passed out in there it might be bad and Yuri didn't want to have to drag him out and explain.

“Aah I'm nervous,” the Fey said. “What if it all goes wrong? What if I screw up?”

“Is this about the wedding tomorrow? Why are you worried?” Yuri didn't know Fey could suffer crises of confidence.

“You know.” The Fey looked at him again, blinking as if really noticing him for the first time. “It's rude to visit the hot springs and wear clothes.”

“Oh. Is it? I'm sorry, I'm really not from around here.”

The Fey squinted at him through the steam. “You're not, are you? Well, get in.”

“Uh.”

Yuri suspected there was no way he could politely get out of this other than by going along with it. How do I get into these situations, he wondered, as he sat down to take off his boots. The Fey didn't say anything while he undressed, just moped in his hot spring.

On the bright side, by the time he'd taken his clothes off the air was cold enough that the spring looked very inviting indeed, and Yuri slipped into it with a sigh of happiness. The water tingled delightfully. He just hoped the Fey hadn't noticed the bruises Otabek had left on his hips as he sank up to his neck in the water.

“It's so good, isn't it?” the Fey said.

“Very nice,” Yuri offered. “So um, everyone seems really excited about the wedding.”

“It will be marvellous, probably.” Another deep sigh. “If all goes well.”

“What could go wrong?” Yuri asked. “Do you have to do something for the ceremony?”

He nodded. “You could say that. Sometimes I wonder why it's even me in the first place. I'm just not that inspiring or confident.”

“Not with that attitude you're not,” Yuri said, irritated. Here he was, about to end up with his whole life given away and this guy was crying into a spring over some boring ceremony.

“Huh?”

“What's the worst that could happen? You screw up and then what? Victor isn't gonna just call off the wedding—look at all this stuff that's happening,” he waved a hand to encompass the entire realm. “Like it or not, this wedding's going to go ahead, and there's nothing either of us can do to stop it.” He slumped in the water. “So stop complaining and enjoy it.” Someone may as well. “It's supposed to be a happy day right? Like, they're getting married so nothing's going to mess it up for them as long as they get to be together. Honestly, they probably won't care if you screw up.”

The Fey was watching him silently.

“They love each other, probably. I kind of get the feeling they had to go through a lot to get this far.” Yuri would be sympathetic if his own freedom wasn't in the mix.

“I suppose so.” The Fey was sitting up straighter. They sat in silence for a while longer, Yuri watching the steam curl up out of the water and quickly shred itself on the breeze that stirred the sky above them.

“I shouldn't be here so late. I should be helping to get things ready,” the Fey said finally. He stood up and waded out of the pool. “Stay as long as you like,” he said. “It was very interesting to talk to you.” He pulled on a robe and walked off towards the nearest wing of the palace.

Weird, Yuri thought, and waited until he was out of sight before getting out of the water, drying himself off on the other folded robe, and throwing his armour back on. He just had to hope that Otabek hadn't been summoned inside already. He jogged down the slope, past the monkeys, retracing his steps through the garden until he saw Otabek's familiar form sitting where he'd left him.

“Did I miss anything?” Yuri asked as he hurried up.

“Not so far. Why is your hair wet?”

“There's a hot spring over there.” He pointed. “I didn't intend to go swimming but, you know.” He shrugged. It seemed like too much effort to explain.

“I see.” The sound of footsteps had Otabek getting to his feet and a small group of Fey approached them from the palace.

“Prince Yuuri will see you briefly,” they were told, and they were escorted inside to a visiting room of dark panelled wood inlaid with opals and mother-o-pearl, the walls lined with flickering lamps that made the gemstones shine.

A Fey was waiting for them, dressed in fine robes of dark blue silk and black velvet studded with tiny gems that glittered like stars, and Yuri realised with a shock it was the Fey from the hot springs. He looked different now, his hair slicked back away from his face, giving him a harsher, more regal countenance, and his gaze was steady and compelling. Hard to believe he was the nervous moper who'd listened so attentively to Yuri's ranting.

Otabek bowed before him and Yuri followed, feeling apprehensive. If Yuuri recognised him, he gave no sign of it.

“Your Highness,” Otabek said. “Thank you for agreeing to see us; I know you have much to do and I will be brief. I wish to beg you for a favour.”

“What would you ask of me, Summer Prince?” Yuuri asked, tilting his head curiously.

“The Winter King asked me to present this mortal as a wedding gift, and I do not wish to give him up. If you would intercede with your betrothed on my behalf, I would be in your debt.”

Yuuri leaned back in his chair and propped his chin on one hand. “A debt. Yes, indeed you would be in my debt. What are you prepared to surrender in exchange for this favour?” His dark eyes bored into Otabek's.

“I don't have a great deal to offer-”

“Offer it anyway,” Yuuri said. He smiled, and it was not a smile that Yuri liked much.

“I have some favour in the Summer Court-” Otabek began, and Yuuri waved him aside.

“You come all this way, the day before my wedding, to beg for a favour. Time is short; I will allow you to make only one more offer. So make it carefully. I'm not in the mood to haggle like we're in the market square.”

What a dick, Yuri thought. After all the good advice I gave him in the hot springs. Yuuri had barely looked at him, his attention on Otabek, so Yuri was free to glare at the prince, although he forced the scowl from his face when Yuuri glanced at him.

Otabek stood with his hands at his sides, his gaze on the floor.

“Anything,” he said eventually.

“What?” Yuri asked.

“Anything I can give,” Otabek said.

“No!” Yuri grabbed his shoulder, tugging Otabek towards him. “You can't offer him that! He could do anything he wanted with you. He's not going to be fair-”

Otabek looked at him. “I have to give him my best offer.”

“But that's.” Yuri shook his head. “It's just wrong. You shouldn't.”

“It is very generous,” Yuuri said. He was looking between them with bright, amused eyes. Yuri held his breath, tensed for anything, wishing he could make Otabek take back his words.

Yuuri seemed to consider it for a while, and then he shook his head. “No. I reject your offer. No favour will be granted,” he said, getting to his feet.

Otabek stared at him, his eyes wide, clearly stunned to have his offer refused.

“You're dismissed,” Yuuri said. “I'll see you at the ceremony tomorrow; until then you are welcome to stay at Court.”

Otabek bowed, a bit uncertainly, and Yuri followed, feeling oddly relieved. At least Otabek was safe.

They were guided down a series of confusing hallways and up and down what struck Yuri as entirely superfluous flights of stairs to an apartment within the Autumn Palace. Yuri held his tongue until they were alone again, but once they were he had no intention of holding back.

“What were you thinking?” he practically exploded. “You can't offer to trade everything away just like that! He could have taken your memories, he could have made you his servant, he could have done something even more horrible because you lot are really fucking inventive when it comes to this sort of shit.” Otabek regarded him calmly, even though Yuri was all but yelling into his face. “That was your great plan? Sacrifice yourself?”

“Yuri.”

“What?” He scowled, refusing to react to the softness of Otabek's gaze, or the way he reached over and took one of his hands.

“I have eternity,” he said. “Regardless of what he took from me, I would eventually find a way to get it back.”

“Even so,” Yuri muttered.

Otabek sighed, and with his other hand he brushed Yuri's hair away from his face. “It doesn't matter. I failed anyway. I didn't expect he'd turn me down.”

“I think that might be my fault,” Yuri said. “I met that guy, Prince Yuuri, in the hot springs. He was really nervous about the wedding and I tried to cheer him up.” Yuri shrugged, a little bemused. “Maybe he really likes me now. Doesn't want to give me up. It might work in my favour, in the end.”

“We can hope.” Otabek moved away and looked around the room with the air of a caged animal. “I don't suppose you've got any other ideas.”

Yuri shook his head. He still wasn't over what Otabek had done; essentially offered himself to Yuuri in Yuri's place. Fey were not known for being selfless, and Yuri's heart ached. He walked up behind Otabek, and reached up to undo his bun. Otabek turned his head slightly, but didn't object as Yuri unwound his long, dark hair, and let it fall down his back. He stepped forward and buried his face in it, breathing deep of the sunshine and sea-salt smell of it, missing summer already. He draped his arms over Otabek's shoulders, chain-mail sliding over the smooth hardness of Otabek's armour as he wrapped his arms around him. “Well, there is a bed right there,” he said, pressing his lips to one of Otabek's ears.

“Is that really what you want to do?” Otabek asked, turning his head so he could look at him. “We're nearly out of time.”

“Exactly,” Yuri said. “We have to make the most of it.”

“It's not like you to give up,” Otabek said, turning in his arms to face him.

“I'm not giving up. I won't give up. But I don't think sitting around thinking is going to help.” He took a deep breath. “And if I fail, if this really is the last time we have, I know how I want to spend it.”

He looked into Otabek's dark eyes, and the Fey nodded, cupping Yuri's face in his hands as he drew him in for a kiss.

 


	13. Chapter 13

Yuri did not regret the hours he spent that night in the Autumn Palace, his legs around Otabek's waist, his name in his mouth, but although he managed to lose himself in Otabek's arms, he inevitably had to return.

The day of the wedding had arrived. The bells of Faerie were tolling when Yuri awoke, and he knew the time had come.

“Summer Court or Winter Court colours?” Otabek asked, as they dressed.

“As if you need to ask,” Yuri replied. He was wearing his armour, but Otabek glamoured it into a fine outfit that weighed no less than the steel and mithril that it truly was, but felt like soft and fine leather and linen under Yuri's fingers. Otabek gave him black drake-skin and gold thread, and draped him in a cloak of fire that danced and flickered at his wrists and around his waist.

If he was to be a gift, at least he was wrapped nicely. Otabek draped sea-foam around himself to match, his hair pulled up in a long ponytail, and when they walked out of the palace Yuri hesitated a moment before looping his arm through Otabek's.

As heavy as his heart was, he couldn't help but be dazzled by the spectacle of a royal Fey wedding. All the guests had done themselves up, living plants and animals and feathers and gemstones, and actual beams of sunlight shone from the rainbow shimmering dress of the Summer Empress, to whom both Otabek and Yuri bent their knee as she passed.

Everyone had a specific place in the procession as according to their court and status within, and Yuri stood among the gold and blue ranks of the Summer Court Fey. Many more Fey had come to watch, and the crowd seemed vast under a reddish autumnal sun, the endless storm rumbling behind the massed flutes and drums. The sky was full of cloud-ships all decked out in various colours, and Yuri really hoped no one decided to start a fight. He was quite sure many Fey wore armour under their glamoured party clothes just as he and Otabek did.

The crowd fell silent as a chill swept through the air. The Winter Court was arriving. Yuri regretted that the flames that wreathed him held no heat as the temperature plummeted. The Summer Court Fey seemed deeply unimpressed by this but no one said anything as snowflakes began to fall.

In the end Yuri didn't get much of a look at the ceremony itself. He saw Victor arriving on the back of a giant wolf, and he cheered when everyone else did, but he couldn't hear what they were actually cheering for, watching the happy couple on the dais and feeling nothing but a dull sense of dread.

“What happens next?” he asked Otabek, leaning in to speak into his ear as the air filled with noise again, the bells ringing, flowers and snowflakes whirling and dancing above the cheering crowd as the newly-married couple waved regally.

“Gifts,” Otabek said. “Which will take hours. Then feasting and dancing, which will take about a week at least.”

Yuri sighed. He really shouldn't have expected anything else. The crowd started to move then, as Fey approached to present their gifts. Otabek explained who was who as they were inevitably edged closer, and Yuri did his best to memorise it. It could come in useful later.

“My sisters,” Otabek said, pointing out a group of Fey as beautiful as he'd promised they were, adorned in feathers and fire, laughing among themselves.

Yuri frowned at them, even though it wasn't really their fault he was in this mess.

“I should have just proposed to you in the first place,” he muttered.

“What?” Otabek snapped his head around to stare at him.

“What?” Yuri shrugged.

Otabek bowed his head in thought for a few moments. “Do you mean that? Truly?” Otabek looked very serious, and Yuri turned to face him properly. He couldn't have looked away if he'd wanted to. It had been an idle comment but Otabek's expression demanded a considered answer.

“Yeah, I do. Of course I do.”

“Are you proposing?” Otabek was speaking so quietly Yuri half read the words off his lips. He'd never seen him look so intent.

Faerie was a place where words have more than meaning; they were binding. They could take and restore a hundred years of memories. They were fate. The sound of the crowd faded from Yuri's conciousness as he focused on Otabek.

“Okay, why not?” he heard himself say.

Yuri got down on one knee. He would do this right, if he was going to do it at all. He was aware that they were being observed, the Fey in their immediate vicinity turning to look with colourful, rarely-blinking eyes, stepping back to give them space.

“Otabek of the Summer Court,” he began, and although Otabek's eyes were wide, he still managed a faint smile. “Will you marry me?” He should have gone with something more dramatic but Otabek didn't seem to mind. The Fey was grinning at him and he took his hand and pulled him to his feet.

“Yes, Yuri. I will,” he said, and Yuri flung his arms around him and kissed him. And again. Otabek pulled back. “I want nothing more,” he said. “Than to stay by your side.”

“Nothing more?” Yuri raised his eyebrows, feeling his face stretch into a grin as he realised what that meant. “I'm free?”

Otabek nodded. “As soon as you mentioned it I knew. I should have realised earlier-”

“No, it's fine, it's fine.” He could have cried with relief, or with one of the other emotions threatening to overwhelm him at that moment. He squeezed his eyes shut and rested his forehead against Otabek's.

I've got you. I get to keep you.

“What is going on?”

That was Victor's voice.

They pulled apart.

“We don't have a gift,” Otabek muttered, as they stepped forward to present themselves. They were out of order now, but Victor's curiosity had allowed them to jump the queue. Yuuri was smiling so fondly and sweetly, his eyes sparkling, that Yuri supposed he didn't hate him after all. He looked pretty fucking happy, all dressed up and garlanded and married, a crown of snowflakes on his head to match Victor's crown of leaves.

They bowed before the pair.

“Your Majesties,” Otabek said. “I cannot present you with this mortal as a gift, for he is not mine to give.” He glanced at Yuri. “He's mine to keep.”

“Oh well, it can't be helped,” Victor said, smiling expectantly.

“Uh.” Otabek seemed at a bit of a loss.

“So instead,” Yuri spoke up. “We hope you'll accept our fondest congratulations and, um, accept an invitation to our wedding in the mortal lands.”

“The mortal lands,” Yuuri said. “I've never been.”

“That sounds like fun!” Victor declared, and then it was on to the next gift, as if the whole thing was too minor to dwell upon any longer. They were free.

“Have I made a horrible mistake?” Yuri asked, as they walked away.

“It's possible, but you didn't have a choice.”

Yuri chuckled, “You know, if I don't become king, it's going to be a very small wedding. You, me, Grandpa, my comrades, and the Winter King.”

“The Empress of Summer will be attending as well,” Otabek said. “I am a prince, after all.”

“Oh.” This was going to be more complicated than he'd anticipated. “The Summer and Winter Courts will be coming to the mortal lands at the same time? To my kingdom?”

Otabek took his hand and smiled. “We'll manage. The impossible is our speciality. Well, your speciality really. I'm just lucky. Now brace yourself, because my sisters are approaching. They'll have some questions for you.”

Yuri took a deep breath. Best get used to it, he thought. Diplomatic relations between mortals and Fey were going to take up a lot of his time in future, he could tell.

 

~~

So it was that the hero Yuri Plisetsky returned from the land of Faerie having found a bride. He rode home astride a tiger with his betrothed, and half the town turned out to see what was only the first of the many marvels that were to appear in that small kingdom.

There could be no contest, all agreed, a royal Fey was indeed the most worthy candidate to share the throne, and Yuri was duly granted the crown.

It was a wedding none who attended ever forgot. The Lords and Ladies of Faerie, including the Winter King himself, had been invited and the kingdom was shown wonders mortals had not seen since the days of myth; cloud-ships and strange beasts, and of course the beautiful and enigmatic Fey themselves. Some said the dancing afterwards lasted for a week, and others for a year. Regardless, the four seasons played havoc with the little kingdom until the guests had gone home, and miracles were for a short time almost commonplace.

Tin kettles learned to sing, streams ran with wine, and all the clocks in a single town ran backwards for a week. Some cursed the new king then, and others might have done so if they'd been braver, but most found that good fortune outweighed the bad in the wake of the Fey guests, and anyone could uncover Faerie gold when they dug up their turnips that year.

Yuri proved to be a determined and well-intentioned monarch, and surprisingly his Fey bride proved adept at restraining him when he grew too impulsive. Under their rule the little kingdom thrived, although it waxed strange as well.

As the years passed it grew Fey-touched, twilight arriving early and lingering late throughout the year, and the far lands of Faerie seemed much closer there, the night music often heard on the breeze. The summers were long, the summer harvests invariably bountiful, and once again mortals started following their hearts to Faerie, although many did not return.

King Yuri reigned for nearly half a century, and although his hair turned silver and his face grew lined, his consort aged not a day. Eventually a tomb was commissioned for him within the Royal Sepulcher, although it remained famously empty.

On the last night of his reign, it was not the cathedral bells that tolled, but the bells of Faerie, and all the citizens slept deeply and dreamed of far, golden places. Even the night watchmen dreamed, sleeping in the street with their lanterns burning unheeded on the cobblestones beside them. When dawn arrived and people returned to their senses, the king and his consort had vanished, never to be seen again.

Those who live in that kingdom say that Yuri still lives, that he dwells in Faerie now with his strange bride. Some mortals have even travelled to Faerie on the pretext of seeking him.

Many, of course, have not returned.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, thanks for reading :) This story got a little out of hand but I had a lot of fun writing it. Come and say hello on [tumblr](https://mongoose-bite.tumblr.com/) if you like, and if you want to read more of my fantasy writing I have a couple of stories up on [dreamwidth](https://mongoose-bite.dreamwidth.org/).


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